Penitence
by AndImTheQueenOfSheba
Summary: COMPLETE I'm not even sure what I'd say if he answered. Probably something really stupid, like "Hi, this is Jake Ryan and I made out with your girlfriend in the broom closet at school today." Honesty isn't always the best policy.
1. Chapter 1

**ok, so I couldn't exactly sleep last night, so while I was trying to anyways, this idea popped into my head. I decided that I needed to make up for deleting some more of my stories, so I wrote this.**

The friends thing is definitely not working out. _I just wanna be friends. _What was I thinking?! I swear, the fame has finally gone to my head. I'm insane now. I have got to be _the _stupidest guy on this deteriorating planet we like to call earth. I'm pretty sure the entire world would be better off if that girl from The Ring would just climb out of my television and strangle me with a bungee cord. They'd even have a new movie to make.

I don't know what was going through my head when I told her that. I mean seriously, breaking up a with a girl and then telling her you still want to be friends, that's like having your dog get run over by a truck and your mom telling you that you can still keep it. I mean, if you just look at her, you can see that I clearly need to get my head examined. Where's Doctor Phil when you need him? He could've talked me out of it, or at least insulted me until I ran home crying and locked myself in the bathroom, never to leave it again. Not that I cry a lot. Because I don't. I'm a man and men do not cry. Not even the stupid ones like me.

I'm really surprised I've gone this long without my brain going bad. I have a feeling that three years of trying to convince myself that it was all for the best will be sending me to an asylum soon. They need to lock me up somewhere all by myself and shave my head so I don't try and commit suicide by strangling myself with my own hair. I'd be pretty ugly if I was bald, but at least I wouldn't be a danger to myself anymore.

I've gone three long years trying to be just her friend. Well, not really. The first year went okay, but the whole time it was killing me. It was like my heart was full of little beetles eating me from the inside out. That sounds really gross, but that's how it was. After that first year, I'd left for another movie, and while I was gone, I decided that I would try to stay away from her. I was definitely not good enough. I'm still not, I mean, I'm talking about strangling myself with my own hair. What kind of girl would go out with a freak like me? None, that's how many. Well…my neighbor Sylvia might. She's 70 something and has actually been declared clinically insane by some world renowned doctor. I don't know which, so don't ask. The only famous doctor I know of is Doctor Phil, and I'm not so sure he's even a real doctor. I'm out of the loop on a lot of things, okay? At least, for someone as famous as me, I am. I'm pretty sure that at least Sylvia is more out of the loop than me.

I feel really bad for doing this. I feel especially bad for myself. Her suffering could not be anywhere near mine. I really regret saying those five stupid words. I regret them so much, that I've spent the last two years figuring out all the ways you can say regret. I even made a list. They're all written in pen on my desk at home in my room. Just so I can feel worse about myself, lower my self-confidence even more, and think about how sad it is that I memorized the definition of each word, I'm going to recite them all in my head.

**1.** Anguish (ang-gwish)

-noun-

Excruciating or acute distress, suffering, or pain.

**2.** Heartache (hahrt-eyk)

-noun-

Emotional pain or distress; sorrow; grief; anguish.

**3.** Remorse (ri-mawrs)

-noun-

Deep and painful regret for wrongdoing; compunction.

**4.** Penitence (pen-i-tuhns)

-noun-

The stage of being penitent; regret for one's wrongdoing or sinning.

Yes, it is definitely a sin, what I'm doing to myself. It is not good to cause yourself so much pain. I'm insane, really. Why did I do it? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The last two years, while not engrossed in a dictionary or thesaurus, I've been doing my best to stay away from Miley. She doesn't really seem to mind, I mean, she's got that boyfriend of hers. Brian something. I don't like him though. Not because I'm like, madly in love with his girlfriend, although that does kind of influence my opinion of him. I don't like him because he's a jerk. Even more than I am. I don't get why she likes him, I mean, she told me I was a jerk, and we broke up because of it. He's not even that good looking!

Oh no. Maybe some of my insanity rubbed off on her! That's got to be it, I mean, he's definitely not her type. He's like, Cruella's's type. His meanness is about equal to hers.

Maybe he's not as bad as I think he is, though. Maybe I'm being really conceited, thinking that he's a bigger jerk than I am. Maybe he really _is _better looking than me. Maybe I'm worse than he is…

Nope, that's not it. He's definitely an uglier, jerkier guy than I am.

I'm pretty sure he's cheating on her, too. I mean, I normally keep to myself in the locker room at school. Which is a good idea, since there's a lot of naked fat guys taking showers in there. Sometimes, though, I just can't help but overhear somebody's conversations. The guy talks about it freely in there. The other guys think he's just bluffing, but he doesn't seem like a very bluffy guy to me. I really don't get how a guy could be that stupid. Girls are right when they say guys gossip just as much as they do. We actually do. We just deny it because gossip is a girly word. I wouldn't actually admit to that out loud, but seeing as these are my thoughts and we have yet to discover any mind readers out there, I think I'm safe.

I really want to say something to her, but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't believe me. I haven't exactly been her best friend these past couple years. I've been doing my best to avoid her, and so far, it's working. She's just getting increasingly more pissed off at me since every time she tries to talk to me, I try to pretend I didn't hear and because I run off in another direction every time I see her coming . At least, I think she's angry about that. Maybe I'm being conceited again. Maybe she's not mad at me, and it just makes me feel better to think she is. I don't get how that could be comforting, but the things that go through guys' brains rarely make sense. Again, I'm only admitting to that because I know nobody's ever gonna know I thought that.

Maybe she _would _believe me, I mean, you never know until you try. Somebody famous said that…I don't know who though…I'm pretty sure it was Barney. Big purple dinosaurs can be really smart, you know. And I'm only saying that, because it makes that summer that I had to wear the big purple suit and greet kids at Toys 'R Us seem a little bit less uncool. I will never admit that I did that. My mom has a pretty big mouth though. She told all the girls at work that week. It was extremely embarrassing.

But what's the worst thing that could happen if I told her? I could be completely wrong. Maybe he _was _bluffing. Or maybe she could say "Jake you stupid jerk, you're a liar and I hate you, now go jump off a cliff!" I have a feeling she'd find a much less compassionate way to say it, though. I've officially convinced myself to keep my yap shut, and just go down the hallway like I am, ignoring all the girls trying to give me their phone numbers, try to dodge the ones throwing themselves at me, lying to the guys, saying something like "No, I can't go to your party, my grandmother just died and I'd prefer to stay home and grieve." and watch Miley's boyfriend make out with a girl that is definitely not her behind the pop machine.

Wait a minute. Aha!!! I was right!!! He _is _cheating on her! I really should not be happy about this, but I am. I'm a terrible person. Sure, I would actually have a chance to possibly tell Miley how I actually felt about her, without getting my head squeezed like a lemon by her boyfriend, but she wasn't exactly gonna be happy he was cheating on her. Maybe she should be happy though. That way I'd think she was insane and maybe move on. Well, it's taken me three years, I don't think that's gonna happen for me.

I really wish I had a video camera, this is a happy moment for me. Not for him though. Stupid boy, did he seriously think he wouldn't get caught, out here in the open? Sure, Miley never used the pop machine, she said they had expired pop in there, but that didn't mean other people wouldn't see him and tell her. Like me. Oh no dude, today is not a good day for you. I'm not usually a tattletale, but seeing as this is Miley, and I love her, I think I'm gonna say something, I mean, it's definitely true, she can't be mad at me for telling her. It' not like she's gonna throw a temper tantrum and pound the floor with her fists for like, an hour. This _is _senior year after all, she's a mature girl…woman…girlwoman.

As soon as I decided that standing in the middle of the hallway staring at a dude that could probably break me in half like a toothpick was _not _a good idea, I headed down the hallway to find Miley. I had no idea where I would find her though, I hadn't actually looked for her in a very long time. I think her locker number was in the 100s…so that would be the west hallway, by the cafeteria. I headed that direction and finally found her locker, but she was nowhere to be seen. So either I'm blind, or she's already gone to class. Wonderful. I guess I'll have to wait.

I headed off to my 4th hour class and sat down in my seat. The teacher praised me like I had fell from heaven, just like she always did, and then got to talking about some boring scientist with a last name I can't pronounce and some pointless thing he discovered that helped exactly zero people. I sat there, staring at the clock, cursing the guy that suggested they switch to a block schedule. 85 minutes of science with Mrs. McCarthy was torture. She had a smoker's voice. It was really low and scratchy, and kind of hurt your ears to listen to. Lucky for me, she can't seem to shut up. That was sarcasm. It's really unlucky. Did I step on a mirror, or have a black cat cross my path? Or maybe I walked under a ladder. All I know is that I've got to be the most unlucky guy ever. Except for that homeless guy that keeps mooning people outside Starbucks. I have to say he's probably pretty unlucky. Either that or he's got Dementia or something.

I could've sworn I heard the bell ring, but I looked up at the clock, after staring at my feet for what seemed like an hour, to find that it was only 10 after 2. I still had 25 minutes left. Wonderful. I went back to staring at my feet, while trying to ignore all the notes the girls behind me kept throwing at the back of my head. I'm pretty sure I got a serious paper cut back there. They could've hit me at the base of my skull and paralyzed me. How flirtatious would they be then? Not very, I'm guessing. At least, I hope so. If that happened and they still kept trying to give me their numbers, I would be very worried about their mental health.

Finally, after I sustained about 600 paper cuts on the back of my head, the bell finally rang. I got up as quickly as I could to leave, but, just my luck, Mrs. McCarthy called me back into the room, to try and tell me that I hadn't turned in my lab report. All the while, it was sitting right in front of her. After she finally put her glasses back on and discovered it said Jake Ryan, and not Bake Pyan, like she had thought, she finally let me go.

I hurried down the hall, shoved my stuff in my locker, got past five people trying to sell me candy bars, and hurried back to the west hallway. Just as I rounded the corner, I saw Miley slam her locker shut and pull her backpack up higher on shoulder. She started walking down the hallway, towards the exit, and I just stood there like an idiot. She was almost to the door, and I still hadn't moved. I decided, it's now or never, (another thing somebody famous said…I think) and ran down the hallway, nearly tripping over Dandruff Danny.

"Hey! Miley!" I yelled, as I caught up to her. She turned around, with a confused look on her face, and saw me.

"Oh…Jake, it's just you." She said, as she opened the door. I followed her out and said, trying to sound calm,

"What do you mean _it's just you_?" She rolled her, eyes, but she smiled while she did it, so obviously she didn't know how big of an idiot I was, yet. That made me feel better. A little.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" I asked.

"I have ears." She said, simply, as she turned the corner. My house was the other direction, but obviously she expected me to follow her, so I did.

"Here, let me carry that." I said, grabbing a hold of her backpack. She didn't object, just like the girls in the movie I got that idea from, so I swung her backpack onto my shoulder. I was really lad it wasn't pink. I'd look really stupid.

"So what was it you wanted to ask me?" She asked. She sounded depressed. I wanted to make her laugh, but that's a hard thing to do, and I didn't know any jokes that were even remotely funny.

"Ummm…it's kind of serious." I told her. I didn't know why I was stalling, I really wanted to say it. I was hoping she'd be so happy that I told her, that she'd call Brian, dump his ass and give me a big kiss, right there on the sidewalk. That's not gonna happen though.

"Yes?" She looked up at me, and looked a little bit happier. I really didn't want to ruin that, or this whole friendship-like thing we had going on at the moment, but I felt like I had to.

"Umm…Are you still going out with Brian?" I asked. It just occurred to me that maybe, just maybe they had already broken up, and she was now free meat. Not that I think she's meat, because she's definitely not. But if she was, she'd be one of those good quality, really expensive steaks you get at those fancy restaurants. I definitely wouldn't use a steak knife on that one though. Or eat it at all. Because I'm not a cannibal.

"Yes." She said, sighing. She looked up at me, with one of those knowing looks on her face, like she could read my mind. Dear god, I hope she couldn't. "Why?"

"Ummm…I kind of…saw him…behind the pop machine…"

"So?" She asked, looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

"With another girl…" I said. She let out a huge disappointed sigh and dropped her head, her hair covering her face like a curtain.

"I thought so." She said. I was surprised. Not only at the fact that she knew, but at the fact that she would let a stupid guy like him cheat on a girl like her. I mean, that guy has got to have issues. Even more than I do.

"Do you want me to mess him up or something, for you?" I joked, punching the air in front of me like I was boxing. She looked up at me with what looked like a smile, and said,

"As tempting as it sounds to send you off to pound in the face of my 6'3" boyfriend, who's going to state for wrestling and knows Karate and Jujitsu and about a hundred other Asian ways to kick a guy's ass…I'm gonna have to decline your offer."

"Good. I wasn't really gonna do it. I just thought it'd make you feel better." I said, smiling. Wait, should I be smiling? She's got to be upset about this, I probably look like an insensitive jerk right now. I dropped the smile.

"It did." She said, sort of smiling again.

"I'm glad."

She was silent for a minute. The only sound was that of our feet on the sidewalk. It was like a pattern, or some sort of song. The she looked up at me and said,

"I can't break up with him."

"Why not?" I asked, more surprised that she was talking than by what she just said.

"He's knows I'm Hannah." She told me. She slowed down a little and sighed again. "He's been threatening to tell every time we fight…I don't think he would…but I don't want to take that chance."

"Yeah…that makes sense…So what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know…eventually he'll get bored of me and dump me, so I guess I'll just have to wait. I really wish I hadn't told him. I'm not so sure I can trust him like I can you."

"You trust me?" I asked.

"Yes…it's been, what, three years since I told you? You haven't said anything yet, so I don't think I have to worry about it."

"Oh…yeah…" I said. I looked up and notice that we were about a block away from her house. I could see it from where we were standing. I hadn't even paid attention to where we were going, but somehow I'd got here without getting run down by a bus, or a kid on a skateboard.

"Well…thank you for telling me Jake…it means a lot to me." She told me, as she stopped in front of her house.

"You're welcome…I didn't really want to say anything, but I thought you should know."

She smiled at me, and I handed her the backpack I had over my shoulder. She stood there for a second, staring at me, before she wrapped her fingers around the strap and pulled it up onto her own shoulder.

"Umm…thank y…" She said, drifting off as she stared at me. I couldn't move my eyes. Can your eyes be paralyzed? I think that happened to me. I can't seem to move the rest of my body either.

There must've been something in the air, because I know that otherwise she would not have done what she did. She was a good person. Even though he deserved it, in every way possible, she wouldn't have purposely cheated on Brian, unless something was malfunctioning in her brain.

Something obviously was, because before I knew it, she was leaning towards me. I really wanted to do it, but I knew I shouldn't. I would get in a lot of trouble if anybody saw this. I couldn't stop myself though, and next thing I knew, my lips were on hers, and we were kissing, right in front of her house. Her dad was probably watching, and her brother…and the neighbors…and god. This is a sin, right? I'm gonna have to start praying now.

Holy shit, am I gonna get my butt kicked when Brian finds out about this.

**_Review people!!!!! I'll find out if you don't:)_**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Alright, this chapter may not be great, but it's late, and i just wanted to post something...the next chapter will be better, I promise. I'll take my time with that one..._**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing...at least I don't think so...maybe I have amnesia..._**

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"I…uh…ummm…" She stuttered. I was thinking exactly the same thing. She was looking right at me though, while she said it. I was looking at the ground. I took her eye contact to mean she wasn't embarrassed about it. She just knew it wasn't right. I was such an idiot. Self control, Jake!! It's called self control!! Boy am I stupid. Her boyfriend's probably gonna rearrange my face now. I just hope I don't end up with my nose sticking out of my forehead. _That_ would be horrible. I'd be a freak, and even worse, I'd probably lose ninety percent of my fan club. Who would buy the Jake Ryan toothbrushes then?

That sounded really conceited. Great, Miley was right, I am _so _full of myself. Maybe breathing through my forehead wouldn't be that bad for me. It's give my brain some air. Minus the nostrils in my forehead, maybe I'd actually be normal enough for her. _I wish. _That'll never happen. The being good enough part, I mean. Not the nose in the forehead. But it'd be nice if that never happened.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, before pulling my backpack up higher on my shoulder and turning to leave. I walked slow, I was expecting her to say something, like in the movies. When people start walking away, there's a few seconds dramatic pause, and then the other person calls the walking person back, and something romantic happens.

"Wait…" She said. How right was I? Movies are like life man, I tell you. Just like life. Except for the ones where toys take over the world and stuff. Like _that _would ever happen. I turned around, trying to keep a straight face. It shouldn't be this hard!! I should feel guilty! What is _wrong _with me?

"Umm…we obviously need to talk about this…but not here, my dad'll probably see you…and he's kinda…_you know_…so…meet me at Rico's at 7, ok?"

"Of course…I'll…I'll see you there…bye." I sounded like I was on the phone _and _I stuttered. I've never acted like this before. I'm normally extremely confident. I think that's what she didn't like about me though. I was _too _confident. Maybe I've changed…or maybe she's got on some kind of perfume that messes up guys' brains. Like in the movies! Ok, that was a stupid guess. But you never know, it _could _happen. I wouldn't put it beneath her to make it, she's smart like that…sometimes.

Miley turned and walked down the sidewalk. I stood there. Like an idiot. Because I am one. She turned around at the door and looked at me. I continued to stare. Seriously!! My issues have been greatly multiplied. What is this girl doing to me? I never should've said anything to her. Now I won't be able to stay away. But, maybe she won't want me to. No, she'll definitely want me to. Although she liked Brian at one point, so she's obviously not into guys with brains…But then again, I haven't changed. I'm no better than I was three years ago. I wasn't good enough then, so I won't be good enough now.

She waved at me, before going inside. I was officially stuck. As in, I couldn't move. I seriously thought, for about a minute, that I was paralyzed. That would suck to the extreme. There's not many jobs for an immobile actor. Even if he looks like me. I couldn't believe what she was doing to me. A simple wave had pretty much turned me to stone. I'm pathetic.

Eventually, I moved my pathetic feet, one in front of the other, and got my pathetic self home. I went inside and sat down on the couch. I vaguely remember my mother saying something about a meeting she had at 3. If it were still junior year, I would probably get home after her, but we seniors got out of study hall, and could go home early. It was pretty nice, but I never knew what to do with the extra 35 minutes, or to be technical, the extra 30 minutes, if I rode the bus. School is so confusing. Why can't we just show up for an hour, put on some weird kind of brainwashing helmet, like in the movies, take it off, and go home. But then I'd probably die of boredom at home, or hang out with the "emo" kids out back and like, smoke pot or something. Or snort it, I'm really not sure what you do, seeing as I've never done it. It'd probably make me even stupider. If that's possible. I don't think it is…in that case, bring on the crack, man!!

I'm still sitting on the couch, half an hour later, when my mom gets home. She asks me what's wrong, like any normal mom, and I tell her nothing, like any normal son. I find myself looking at the clock about every 5 seconds. It's taking forever. It's only 4! I decided to kill time by stuffing my face with marshmallows. Apparently you can choke and die by doing that, but it's not like anyone would miss me. Ok, people _would _miss me. I hope. So I put down the marshmallows, deciding that suicide is _not _the best thing for me right now. Especially since I have a movie coming out. Who would be on The Tonight Show promoting it and drinking barbecue sauce with a straw in an effort to prove I'm just as weird as everybody else in the world, if I died? Nobody, that's who. Well, maybe my costar would, but he's kinda ugly, so it wouldn't be the same.

Eventually, I decided to take a nap, so I went to my room. You kind of have to learn to sleep, no matter what's on your mind, when you're in the public eye as much as me. You can't let any magazine articles about how you're "half robot, half ravioli, half walrus" keep you from sleeping. And yes, there actually was an article about how I was half robot, half ravioli, and half walrus. And yes, that's three halves. The people behind those magazines aren't very smart.

I can sleep anytime, any place. I actually fell asleep in the bathroom at the movie theater when I was on a date once. The girl definitely didn't appreciate it. I think she left. I probably deserved that though. So I think my point is, being able to sleep like I do isn't always a good thing. Like this time. When I slept until 6:59. Oh, yeah, you can bet I was late. I leapt out of my bed, yelled at my mom for not waking up, she yelled at me for not telling her that she needed to wake me up, I changed my shirt, put on a hat, asked mom where my sunglasses were, put on my sunglasses, sprayed on some cologne, mostly to hide the smell I would have once I ran to Rico's, and I ran to Rico's.

When I got there, I looked for Miley, but she was nowhere to be seen. Great. She stood me up after I ran all this way? I almost knocked over an old lady on the crosswalk, and nearly go hit by a car four times!!! I might as well get something to drink. I went up to the counter and got a water, for free of course. I'm one of the few people Rico will actually give free stuff to. Lucky for me, Miley's brother wasn't working. That would've been kinda awkward…not that he knew…I'd just feel weird standing next to the guy that lives down the hall from Miley. I wish _I _lived down the hall from Miley. Yeah, that's right, I admitted it.

So I was sitting on a bar stool, doing my best not to be recognized, when somebody tapped on my left shoulder. I looked to the left, and there was nobody there. Too my right, however, was Miley. She had a smile on her face and was out of breath. No seriously, she was smiling! At a time like this! There's got to be something wrong with her brain. Maybe that's why I like her so much…

"Sorry…I'm…late." She said, breathing heavy. "Dad made lasagna for dinner, and he really gets into the cleanup, so he forced me to stay." I tried not to imagine what exactly she meant by "really gets into the cleanup" and got up from my bar stool.

"It's okay, I was late too." I said, throwing away my water bottle and adjusting my hat.

"Oh, alright…well…ummm…yeah, let's, uh…go this way." She was stuttering. Miley never stuttered. Miley always had something to say, no matter how much trouble it got her in, or how many enemies it made her, and she was stuttering. I think this is a good sign. Wait…no it's not. She just cheated on her boyfriend. Her stupid, ugly, lying, cheating, doesn't know how good he's got it, boyfriend, but her boyfriend. _That _was why she was stuttering.

"Umm, ok." I said, before following her down the stairs and onto the beach. We sat down next to a bunch of bushes. I remembered falling into these bushes, that time Miley pushed me off the wall above us. Now, I think _that _is a sign. A bad one, but a sign none the less.

"Ummm…yeah…I don't know what to say." She told me, looking down at the sand running through her fingers. I stared at it for a minute too, before saying,

"Well I think it's obvious that I don't either, so…"

"Yeah…ummm…we, uh…this is harder than I thought." She admitted. Tell me about it. Well, she did already, but it's just a saying.

"I…uh…I understand if you…ummm…if you want to stay with…with Brian, I mean, he is-"

"I don't care about Brian." She interrupted. I looked up at her, surprised. She had actually got out a sentence in one piece. Now if only I could do that.

"You don't?" I asked. There! A whole sentence…er…question. It's not really a big sentence…_question_, it's only two words, but at least I said it.

"No. I used to, but I don't anymore. I've seen him for what he really is."

"And what's that?" I asked. She scooped up another handful of sand and let it run through the cracks between her fingers.

"I don't know. A liar. A cheater." She looked up at me, and our eyes met. Again, I felt like I was paralyzed. I really wanted to know how she did that to me. She was staring at me, and her lips were parted. I just wanted to reach out and touch them. She pulled the bottom one in, under her top lip. She said nothing, and neither did I. We just stared at each other. Then she had her hand on mine, and I could move again. I leaned forward, just like she wanted me to. _I_ didn't want to. I knew it was wrong, but so did she, and that was what she wanted, so I did it. I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried, anyways.

The second my lips touched hers, I felt like I had a hundred bolts of electricity running through me. I know it's cheesy, and they say this in pretty much every movie, but it really was like fireworks were going off. It was exactly how it had been the first time. She pulled away from me, and sighed.

"We're no better." It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about. Almost the entire conversation had temporarily left my memory.

"You're right. We shouldn't be doing this."

"I know." She said, looking down again. She still had my hand, and was running her fingers across it, sticking them between mine, rubbing them against my palm. She stopped, and her hand stayed still. I looked down at her hand. Her hand was cold and white. I could see every vein. Her skin looked like marble. She was like a statue, or a dead body. I desperately wanted to reach out and make her look at me. I wanted to look in her eyes and make sure she was still alive, that her heart was still beating.

"What if I don't care?" She whispered, breaking the silence. I stared at her for a second before realizing she was serious.

"But you do."

"I don't."

"Yes you do. Don't lie." I said, trying to hide the smile on my face.

"You're wrong. I don't." I let it drop and grabbed her hand. I squeezed it tight, and she shifted her weight.

"I don't know why I feel so comfortable around you. We haven't actually talked or anything for years…why?"

"I told you I just wanted to be friends…and I tried to…but…it didn't work…I couldn't do it…and I still wasn't…worthy…you were still too good for me…so I decided that…it'd be easier for me to just, stay away, and then maybe…some day…I'd be good enough." She wiped her eye and squeezed my hand. I couldn't believe I was saying something like this. It was like I was straight out of some sappy romance movie.

"I'm still not."

"You are."

"I'm not." I tried to assure her. She smiled at me, her smile almost blinded me, it was so beautiful.

"But you don't care." She said. She sounded very sure of herself. I looked up at her and said,

"I don't."

**_Review!!!!!!!! Seriously, the more you review, the better, and longer, the next chapter is...so that means you all have to!!! Even if you have nothing good to say._**


	3. Chapter 3

**_ok, so it's late again...but I'm gonna try...n I don't actually have to go to bed, so it's all good!!! (if you could see me, I would have both my thumbs up...but you can't see me...so just imagine it, ok?) anyways..._**

**_disclaimer: uhhh...(I have temporarily decided to be a mime...that can't type)_**

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It may seem interesting, or dramatic, or romantic, or tragic, or movie worthy or whatever, to be the "other man," but it's not. It's kinda scary. I expect Brian to jump out from behind a trash can and slice my head of with a butter knife or something. Not that you could "slice" someone's head off with a butter knife. More like, continuously saw to no avail for like, five years before you actually get through. Ouch.

Speaking of butter knives, I'm hungry. I need some more marshmallows. So I get up, search every cupboard in the kitchen looking for where my mom hides them (she thinks I eat too many marshmallows) and then eventually find them under her bed. I sit on the couch again and start stuffing my face. Again.

I eat when I have a lot on my mind, okay? And I definitely have a lot on my mind, what with having been messing around with the biggest guy in school's girlfriend for like, a month, and all.

Thinking about her kind of puts a smile on my face...which is kinda gross since I have a ton of marshmallow goo gluing my lips together. Don't get me wrong, I know this is wrong and stuff, it's like, one of the seven deadly sins or whatever, isn't it? But then again, if you think about it, they call it adultery, right? Well, we're not adults...so it's more like, teenagertry. Which only makes it about half as bad, since teenagertry isn't even a word. At least I don't think it is. I need a dictionary.

An hour after I get the marshmallows, I'm still sitting on the couch, wondering whether it'd be worth the effort to get up and throw the empty bag away. Maybe I should just take a nap. But then again, I don't wanna get fat, so maybe I should burn at least one calorie. I decided that that was the best idea, so I got up, ran to the garbage can, threw in the empty marshmallow bag, and ran back to the couch. There. One calorie.

I really hate the weekends. I know that that's not normal for a teenager, but I hardly ever have anything to do, beside wander around town waving at random people (and then reading an article about how I'm marrying them) and getting my picture taken with weird looks on my face, or after I ran into a pole or something (and then read an article about how I was drunk, or high or something). That actually happens a lot. The running into stuff, not the getting high.

My eye sight isn't as great as it looks. Neither is my coordination, I trip a lot and run into things all the time. Especially when I'm trying not to. It's getting way worse, too. pretty soon I'll probably walk off a cliff, because I didn't see it. That'll be a story. "Jake Ryan Commits Suicide!! " I can see it now.

Since it happens to be a Friday afternoon, I'm extremely bored. I've got two choices. 1. Sleep. or 2. Sleep and then call Miley. I choose the 2nd choice and go crash in my room, falling off the bed twice.

I wake up at about 10 pm, and call her. She told me not to call before 9, in case Brian was around. I'm not even sure what I'd say if he answered. Probably something really incredibly majorly stupid, like "Hi, this is Jake Ryan and I made out with your girlfriend in the broom closet at school today. I also live at 1472 Rosalind Boulevard." Yes, that would be extremely stupid, even if it is true. Honesty isn't _always _the best policy. Not if it'll get you killed.

The phone rings about four times, before Miley voice comes out of the phone, in a whisper.

"Hello? Jake?" She says quietly. She sounds unsure...and I'm pretty sure she has caller id...so maybe she forgot how to read or something...she has moments like that a lot.

"Hey."

"Good night." She said, slightly louder. She must've left the room. She _did_ live with her dad. And then there was Jackson...who...well, theres not words to describe him...at least not words of the English language...maybe caveman language.

"Good night? I just called, you're hanging up already?" I asked, acting offended. I definitely understood if she didn't feel like talking to me, I mean, not everybody wants to be a bad person.

"It's nighttime Jake. I can't say good morning, can I?" She explained, giggling. Oh...right. That makes a lot of sense. I feel stupid now.

"Oh...right...yes..you could've said good evening, you know. Well...I was wondering...if you wanted to...do something?"

"Do something...like...what?" She asked, in a playful tone. I imagined her twirling her hair around her finger with a smile on her face on the other end of the phone line.

"I don't know...why don't you come over here...my mom won't be back until tomorrow morning...we could..._watch a movie,_ or something..."

"I'll be there. 10 minutes." She said quickly, before hanging up. Wow, it sure takes a lot to convince her. I don't know how I'll do it next time. I just might have to tie her up, stick her in a bathtub full of ketchup, and force broccoli down her throat until she agrees with me.

Since I had only 10 minutes, I went in the bathroom, splashed some water in my face, and tried to put on some cologne. I say tried, because I ended up getting it in my mouth four fricking times! Finally, I sprayed it in the right place. My breath smelled weird...but at least it didn't smell like marshmallows anymore.

I went back to the living room and sat on the couch. A minute later, I could hear a car in the driveway. I was glad we'd decided to live where we did. Not many famous people live here. It's mostly old people, or people with disabilities. But since hardly anybody knew where I lived, there was no need for a gate, we just had a lock. Well, we had, like, five locks, but that was because we lived next to a guy who steals stuff a lot. He's got Alzheimers I think, so he's a little crazy. At our old house though, we had a gate, and I could never remember the code, so I ended up stuck outside a lot, which wasn't a good thing when I had crazy fans chasing me.

So luckily for Miley, we had no gate, and she could get right up to the house without having to wait for me to call my mom for the code again. I could hear the car door slam, but I stayed where I was. I always thought those people that are at the door before their date was were kind of pathetic. It's best to let them get to the door, knock, or ring the bell, or scream at you, or whatever, and wait a few seconds for you to get there. Then you don't seem so overly excited.

She rang the doorbell, so I waited. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...then I got up and opened the door. She was standing there in a denim mini skirt and a yellow tank top with a purple jacket over it. She had her hair down and was running her fingers through it, while chewing on her bottom lip like she was trying to eat it. Who knows, maybe it tastes really good. I think it does, but I've never actually gone cannibal and took a bite out of it.

"Hey." I said, letting her in. She walked past me and turned around in the entryway. She looked nervous, and that worried me, but I tried to ignore it, and came up with a barely intelligent question.

"What's wrong with you?" I realized how that must have sounded to her, and quickly corrected myself.

"I mean, what's wrong? You look upset." She rolled her eyes and quit chewing on her lip. She stuck her hands in the pocket of her jacket and pulled it tight. She started twirling a strand of hair around her finger, and said,

"I think my dad's kinda suspicious...he kept asking me where I was going..I told him I was going to get some ice cream at DiAngelos, since it's so far away and it would seem weird if I was gone for so long...but I don't think he believed me...and now that I think about it..we had like, a gallon of ice cream from there in the fridge...but Jackson ate out of it so it's probably poisoned by now, but-" She kept rambling on and on and on, so I quickly interrupted her.

"You can just, go get some ice cream before you go home. That way you're not lying, okay?" Every time I tried to suggest something, but it hardly ever worked out. I tend to say some pretty stupid things. I thought for a minute that I had said something stupid again, because the nervous look stayed, etched onto her face.

"Ok...well...it's just...I don't like lying to him. It's never got me anywhere before. He always catches me...he's just too nosy for his own good." She let the strand of hair curled around her finger drop to her shoulder and stuck the twirling hand behind her neck.

"Something _else _on your mind?" I asked. Wow. I sounded really insensitive right there. I'm a horrible person.

"No...well...I, uh...no, never mind." She mumbled. I wasn't exactly sure what her final choice was, she was confusing me. She can be pretty confusing, I mean, she _is _two people. I confuse myself enough just being me. I don't know how she does it. I would probably forget who I was and say something stupid, and then people would know and freak out, and then I'd be chased by the paparazzi, most of them in wheel chairs, having got their feet run over by pretty much everybody in Hollywood. Except for me.

I'm not the greatest driver so I usually let other people drive me places. That's a good thing for all those people on the sidewalks, if I actually drove all the time, they'd probably get run over, I'm _that_ bad. I don't have a clue how I got my license.

"Are you sure?" I asked. She started wringing her hands and bit her lip again.

"Well...there is something...never mind, it's not important. Yeah, I'm fine. Just, go on...or whatever."

"_Okay." _I said, letting it drop. I went into the living room, and she followed me. I sat down in front of the flat screen and started going through the DVDs. Yeah. We're _actually_ watching a movie. That's it. How dramatic! They'll definitely make _us _into a movie.

"Is this okay with you? Watching a movie, I mean...cause we could always do something else." I said, turning from the stack of movies in my hands to face Miley. She just ignored me. She was on the couch, pulling on her earlobe in a sort of spaced out way. She was looking right at me, but it felt like I was being x-rayed. She was looking right _through_ me, at the creamy yellow colored wall behind me.

"Miley? Are you _sure _you're okay?"

"Yeah, this is fine. You can pick whatever you want...but...I was thinking about...never mind...just...never mind." She mumbled again. Even _I _wasn't stupid enough to not see that something was going on. Seriously, the scare crow in The Wizard of Oz could figure that out, and he didn't even have a brain...or maybe it was the tin man...

"Miley, I know there's something on you're mind. Tell me what it is." I said, with that demanding tone that parents always use on their kids. She looked at me, sort of surprised, and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Well...I, uh...I don't know, I just...feel bad about this. All of a sudden, it just, hit me, like a ton of bricks...I was doing the exact same thing he was..."

"It's a little too late to do anything about it Miley. What's done is done...there's no going back." I told her. Man, I sound so smart. I'm like, Dr. Phil with hair! Miley just nodded.

"I know. You're right." She said, leaning back on the couch. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, like a little kid.

"You shouldn't feel bad about this. He's cheating on you. He threatens you. He doesn't respect you. You feel bad about cheating on him, which means _you _respect _him, _and you shouldn't." I seriously need my own show. _'Dr. Jake, to the rescue!'_

"You're right. I should be mad at him...what am I doing, feeling guilty?" She said, smiling. She let go of her knees and dropped to the floor. She started crawling across the floor, towards me. I could see down her shirt, but she didn't seem to care. She just sat down next to me, and rested her head on my shoulder.

"You're the next Dr. Phil, Jake." She said. Ha ha, I really _am_ that good. Why am I an actor? Why aren't I a psychiatrist...oh wait, that's why...I can't_ spell _psychiatrist. My business card would probably say something like Jake Ryan, Crazy Doctor.

"I know." I said confidently, as I continued to go through the stack of DVDs in my lap. She playfully slapped me on the chest and sat back to watch me. At least, I think that's what she was doing...

"What do you think of this one?" I asked, holding a DVD up.

"Whatever you want. I don't care." She said. She started running her fingers across the carpet, while still looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

I grabbed the movie and shoved it into the DVD player. I wasn't even sure what movie it was. I just picked one. She said she didn't mind, after all. I just hope it wasn't like, The Princess Diaries or something. My mom liked that movie, so she bought it and made me watch it with her like, five hundred times. It actually wasn't _that _bad. I would never admit that to anyone, though. Not even to Miley.

It turned out to be some Zombie movie Zac Efron had sent me. He told me to watch it, but I didn't. It sort of surprised me that Zac would actually like a movie about zombies, what with him being, like, 50 percent girl.

I stood up and held out my hand to help Miley up. She grabbed it and pulled herself up. I sat down on the couch and she sat down next to me, with her head in my lap and her feet hanging over the arm rest. She grabbed a hold of my hand and was bending my fingers, just playing with it, like a four year old boy with a toy he got from his McDonald's Happy Meal.

The movie started, but I wasn't paying attention. I was looking down at her all through the opening credits. She started kissing each one of my fingers, before she sat up and turned around. Now she had her legs across my lap and had her hands behind her, supporting her weight. I leaned over and kissed her, and she pulled her legs off of me and tucked them underneath her. She had her hands in my hair and I had my hands around her, massaging her lower back. I moved my mouth to her neck, and she leaned back, moving her hands to my shoulders, and then to my chest. While I was straddling her on my couch, she was laughing like crazy.

"Quit doing that! It tickles!" She kept saying. I moved my hands to her stomach, and then up to her ribs. I pulled her jacket off and tossed it on the armchair next to the couch. She wrapped her legs around my torso and her arms around my neck. Suddenly, she pushed me off of her and said,

"Do you have any popcorn? I really want some popcorn." I raised an eyebrow...at least, I think I did. It's not like I can actually see myself right now. As far as I know, Miley's not a mirror.

"Umm, yeah, I'll go make some." I said, as she untangled herself from me, to let me up. I headed to the kitchen to find some popcorn, and heard her yell,

"Hurry! I'm hungry!" from the living room, laughter still in her voice.

I grabbed a bag, stuck it in the microwave, and tried to find a bowl to put it in, while it started popping. I found a bowl in one of the cupboards. It was white, and said, in black letters, across the side, POPCORN. It was perfect. The microwave timer went off, and I took the bag out. I opened the bag and poured it into the bowl. It was really hot, but I could deal. She wanted popcorn, so that was what she got. I am so whipped.

I found the salt and sprinkled it over the bowl, before taking it back to the living room.

"Yay!" She said happily, before yanking the bowl from my hands.

"Hey, I want some too." I stated, taking a handful from the bowl. She slapped my hand away and rested the bowl on her knees, which she had pulled up to her chest again.

We started actually watching the movie, randomly throwing popcorn at each other when one of us wasn't looking, and eventually, it was over.

Miley ate really really slow, so there was still a little bit of cold popcorn in the bowl, which she was stuffing into her mouth as the credits rolled. She swallowed the last piece and said,

"I should probably get home now, I've got an interview early tomorrow morning." She looked up at the clock, and saw that it said 1:15.

"Well, early_ this _morning, I guess." She added, as she picked up her jacket.

She left and I went to bed. I was tired. I woke up early though, and decided to stop by the radio station where Miley's interview was. I drove myself there, almost running over the neighbor's dog in the process. I went inside, and the lady at the front desk let me in. Well...I had to argue with her for about five minutes, before the phone rang and she was distracted, which was when I snuck inside. I stood outside the room Miley was in. Or, to be technical, Hannah. She saw me and looked surprised, but went on talking to the DJ. I started making faces at her through the window, and she started cracking up. The DJ was looking at her funny, and when he turned to see who it was that was making her laugh, I ducked down so he wouldn't see me.

Eventually, she was done, and she hurried out of the room. She'd got rid of the bangs Sophomore year, and had lost about three inches of her fake hair. It wasn't perfectly straight anymore, either. It kind of reminded me of Rachael Ray, only blonde. I thought it looked a lot better than the old wig.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to sound mad. She couldn't though, she was smiling, and couldn't hold the angry tone.

"What, I can't come visit my favorite pop star?" I asked, kissing her on the cheek.

"Not in public. Brian knows who I am Jake, if he sees me with you, as Hannah, or as Miley, he's gonna know." She said.

"Sorry, I didn't think about that." I said.

"_Duh_." She said, rolling her eyes, still wearing the smile.

"There's no paparazzi in here, he's not gonna see anything." I assured her.

"I guess you're right..but still, you have to be more careful." She told me, before looking down the hallway to see if anybody was around. She saw nobody, and leaned in to kiss me.

"I've got to go, I have a costume fitting in like, 15 minutes, I'm gonna be late." She said, before turning to leave. I followed her down the hallway, and outside to her car.

"Have a good time." I said, smiling at her. I knew she wouldn't. she hated costume fittings. She always complained about how long they took, and how many times she got pricked with a pin.

"_I_ _will_." She said sarcastically. I kissed her goodbye, and climbed into my car. I was about to leave the parking lot, when I looked up and saw a guy standing across the street. He was really muscular, and looked sort of angry. He had his fists clenched, and was looking at me. I'm pretty sure it was Brian. Oh boy.

**_ta da...this took me like, forever...I started it at like, 10 last night, went to bed at midnight, woke up at like, 9, took a shower, tried to finish this, had lunch, tried to finish this, and now it's almost 2, and I'm finally finished lol. It normally takes me like, an hour or two, so that's actually lot of time for me..._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_ahh! I have to finish this chapter...I'm going to Georgia over spring break and I only have a couple days left...so I'm gonna force myself to finish this chapter! _**

Oh shit. Wait. I can't say that. Hundreds of teenage girls look up to me, we don't need a bunch of cursing 12 year old kids. 

Oh shoot. This is horrible. We've been caught. Well, _I've _been caught. Either way, this is really really really really bad. Not good at all. Her boyfriend's standing across the street, and he definitely just saw me kiss her. Man he looks angry. Well, that's not a surprise...I'm just lucky that's _all _he saw. Man am I in trouble.

Oh no, he's coming over here. Why am I still standing here? What am I gonna do? I need to move...where's my car?

I looked around the parking lot, trying to remember where I parked. I saw my car, squeezed between a black Jaguar and a silver Mercedes in the corner of the lot. I tried to make my way over there inconspicuously, I didn't want to look guilty, although I definitely was. I took out my keys and rifled through them, trying to find the one to my car. Why do I have so many keys?

I finally found the key I needed, and tried to stick it in the keyhole. Just as I was about to turn it, though, something slammed into my back.

"Oww! What's wrong with you?" I yelled without thinking. After the words left my mouth, I realized that yelling at this particular guy was _not _a good idea. Especially since _I _am the one in the wrong this time. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed in my ear as he pinned me up against my car.

"Umm...trying to get in my car." I said, trying to stay calm. If I die in a parking lot, I'll kill myself. 

"I saw you with her." He explained angrily. I was actually surprised he was that angry about this, I mean, he obviously didn't care about her as much as I did, so what exactly was his problem? Couldn't he just dump her and get it on with his other five girlfriends already?

"With who?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't know. He let go of me but I just pivoted in my spot, instead of running away, like I had planned.

"My girlfriend you - " Then he said a whole bunch of cuss words that I can't exactly remember. What was I gonna say? I needed an excuse. I saw a billboard off in the distance with a girl on it and an idea entered my mind.

"You're dating Ashlee Simpson?"

"No you idiot. Do you really expect me to believe that was her? She's a red head. That girl was blonde." He looked sort of unsure as he said it though, so, internally, I took a deep breath. This might just work.

"Ummm...actually, she just died her hair blonde...for an episode of, uh, Law & Order...but she's dying it back tonight...that's where she was going, you see?"

"Really?" He asked, sceptically. I nodded and leaned against my car, crossing my arms. I need to stay calm. I'm an actor, I can do it!

I'm normally not scared of people, but seeing as this guy was really big, and angry, and would be extremely mad if he knew what I'd been doing with his girlfriend...I was scared. If you could see this guy, you'd be scared too. He's like a pro wrestler!

"If I find out you're lying...I swear to god I'll beat your ass!" He told me, before leaving, without apologizing for shoving me into the side of my car, and possibly denting it. I turned around once he was out of sight, and inspected my car. No damage. Good. 

I quickly go in the car and hit the lock button twice. Sort of relieved, I leaned back in my seat, before letting out the breath I'd been holding. I knew I shouldn't be relieved, I still had a lot to worry about, but I had one less dangerous thing on my mind, so I wasn't that worried.

I started the car and exited the parking lot. Once I was breathing regularly, I took out my cell phone and dialed Miley's number. Once she answered, I explained everything that had just happened. She didn't seem to be nearly as concerned as I was. She was weirdly calm.

"I'm just glad you're an actor." She told me quietly. By this time I had concluded that she was not alone.

"Yeah...and not a horrible one." I agreed, as I pulled into our driveway.

"Yeah...good thing you haven't won a Razzie yet..." She replied, distantly.

"Yet? Are you saying you think I will?"

"No, of course not." She assured me. She obviously wasn't paying much attention to this conversation.

"Something wrong?" I asked her,as I entered the house and set my keys on the marble kitchen counter, before sitting down on one of the stainless steel bar stools on the other side. I set my elbows on the counter and rested my chin in my hands.

"It's just...I wish he'd just break up with me already...I mean, sure we've been together for almost two years, but he doesn't care. Why does he keep me around?" She was speaking louder now, so I figured she'd got away from whoever's company she'd been keeping earlier.

"You don't know how much I wish he would." I said, sighing. It would make things so much easier. 

We were both silent for a minute, thinking, before she suddenly exclaimed,

"Oh no. I've got a call on the other line...what if it's him?"

I sat up straight in my bar stool and told her,

"Just stay calm. And if he asks...Ashlee Simpson's my girlfriend, and she's blonde for the day, okay?"

"Umm...sure...I'll try to remember that..." She took a deep breath and there was a click, as she switched lines. I set the phone down for a second, and got myself a glass of water. I took a drink and set it down on the counter top. Then, waiting, I sat there, with the phone up to my ear, for almost five minutes,before I was about to decide to hang up or not. It seemed like she'd hung up on _me_, already.

It was a good thing I didn't hang up though, because a second later, Miley's voice came from the phone. I instantly held my breath. I was the actor, not her. I didn't have a clue how convincing she was capable of being. If she _had _lied to me in the time I knew her, I was completely unaware. As far as I knew, she hadn't, but if she had been anything but truthful, she was extremely good at covering it up.

"That was scary. I thought he'd know I was lying...good thing I went for the gullible type..."

I let out the breath I had been holding at the exact same time she did, and she obviously heard it, because she started laughing.

_"We're insane!" _She breathed, still laughing. "We are completely, absolutely _deranged_."

"I know we are. But you know how impatient I am. I just can't wait for you." I said, in something far from my usual serious tone, although it was definitely a true statement.

Miley laughed that crazy, indescribable laugh of hers,and asked,

"Hey...is your mom home?"

"No, I think she's got her "book club" or something like that today. They normally end up throwing the books in the fireplace and going to a bar, though." I explained. Miley laughed again, and revealed the reason she was asking.

"Good, cause I'm done here, I'm on my way over, okay?"

"You're done already?" I asked, surprised. It was hard to believe she could be finished so quickly. It normally took her at least three hours to finish the costume fittings. There was so much to be done. She'd only had maybe twenty minutes there.

"Yeah, turns out like half the designers have the flu, so I just approved a couple designs for the dancers, and they told me I was free to go."

"Okay...I guess I'll see you soon then." I said, before she said goodbye and hung up. I flipped my phone shut and set it back down on the marble. I stood up and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I stared in the mirror at myself, thinking about what I was doing. Could it possibly be hurting Brian? Did a guy like him have feelings? I wasn't so sure he did, after he threatened me like that. She was only a possession to him. She was like one of those bobble heads people buy at gift shops and leave on the dash of their truck for a year, before they even realize it's still there, waiting for them to do something with it.

I stood there, toothbrush in hand, completely spaced out, for a couple of minutes, before the doorbell rang, bring me back to earth. I quickly spit out my toothpaste, wiped my face on a towel, and checked my hair, before heading down the hallway. I saw her though the large window in the door before she saw me, and stopped right where I was standing. She looked so beautiful right there, with the light beaming down on her at that angle. It was...indescribable. 

It was probably weird that that was my opinion of her appearance at that second, because I knew that she wouldn't agree with me. Never in a hundred years would she understand what I was thinking of her, as she stood there, adjusting her shirt, with her hair all messy, having been covered with her wig. Her clothes she definitely would agree on, since all she was wearing was a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and some jeans with a hole in the knee. It was so effortless though...like there had been a fire and she'd just thrown on the closest thing she could find. I'm pretty sure that if my house was on fire, I'd probably just run out naked. Half my neighbors are practically blind anyways. It just shows how much more modest she is than me. Ha.

A silent moment passed, before she looked up, to ring the doorbell again, and noticed me staring. She smiled, before rolling her eyes and pounding on the door with both of her fists. I snapped back to reality quickly and went to open the door.

"You go brain dead or something?" She asked as she came inside.

"Huh?" I asked, still staring at her.

"Stop drooling, you'll stain the carpet, and then your mom will know I was here." She told me, smiling. I glared at her and said,

"I'm not drooling." She continued to smile at me, as she set a couple magazines on the kitchen counter.

"What are those for?" I asked her, as she picked one up and made her way into the living room. She was just walking around like she owned the place. She basically did, she was here almost every second my mom was away.

"I jacked them from a gas station" She explained nonchalantly, as she sat down on the couch. I took my place next to her, and asked,

"You stole them?"

"I didn't steal them...I just walked out without paying." She said, as she opened one.

"That _is _stealing...and why'd you take them anyways?" I asked her.

"Well, I kinda forgot I had them and just sort of...walked out..." She said, biting her lip, before answering my second question. "And I took them, because I think it's interesting to see what lies they're able to come up with."

"You do?" I asked, looking over her shoulder at an article about George Clooney and breast cancer...how those relate, I don't know, but I kinda wanted to know what their reasoning was.

"Yes..." She said, flipping the page. "Oh no..." She whined, the second she saw the next page. She had the magazine turned by then, so I couldn't see what it was.

"What?" I asked, trying to see the article.

"They're comparing me to Britney again!" She showed me the magazine. There was a picture of Britney, with hair, on one side, and Miley, as Hannah, on the other. they were both wearing a similar outfit, although Miley's skirt was about2 inches longer, and her shirt was a little less low-cut. I still knew that she'd never dress that way though. It was a pretty revealing picture, even if she was more covered up than the Britney photo.

"That is so doctored.I've never worn that skirt in my life." She complained.

I sat back and smiled at her. The worst person they'd compared me to so far was Bill Clinton, although that comparison made about as much sense as this one.

"I wouldn't care if they compared me to the talented Britney, but they keep comparing me to the train-wreck Britney." She mumbled, reading the article.

"Aww, poor Britney, getting compared to you? Must be torture." I said, smiling at her. She playfully slapped me across the chest, and went back to reading.

"Don't worry. You're much hotter. Even if you were wearing a paper bag."

"I wouldn't fit in a paper bag, but thank you anyways." She told me, flipping the page again.

"You're supposed to say "Thank you Jake, you'd look pretty dang hot in a paper bag too."" I joked.

"You know who'd look hotter in a paper bag?" She asked me, smiling.

"Who?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Steven Strait."**(lol Lani)**She said, holding up the magazine again to show me a picture of some guy I'd never met before.

"Not fair. I'm way hotter than a caveman." I told her, getting up from the couch.

"He's not a caveman anymore...but you're right." She said, getting up and following me down the hall to my room. I had gone there to get something, but I couldn't quite remember what it was.

"Oh, a radio!" She said, once she came through the door. She shot to my stereo so fast, I would've missed her moving at all if I'd blinked. She turned on the radio and started singing along to the first song that came on.

"If you could only see, Your heart belongs to me. I love you so much, I'm yearning for your touch. Come and set me free, forever yours I'll be, Baby won't you come and take this pain away!" Her voice was beautiful, but it definitely wasn't her kind of song. She had that playful look on her face as she started dancing along.

"That's our theme song, okay?" She told me as she grabbed a hold of my hands and started dancing with me.

"Isn't it about breaking up though?" I asked, twirling her around.

"Maybe it is, I don't care." She changed the station again anyways, and started singing once more.

"If you just realize, what I just realized, then we'd be perfect for each other and we'll never find another. Just realize, what I just realized, we'd never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now!" She sang, dancing by herself now. She switched the station one last time, and stopped moving the second she recognized the song. I secretly laughed to myself.

"Tell Me, you're so into me. That I'm the only one you will see. Tell me, I'm not in the blue. That I'm not wastin', my feelings on you. You drive me crazy! I just cant sleep! I'm so excited, I'm in too deep.Ohohoh...crazy, but it feels alright! Baby, thinkin' of you keeps me up all night." Blared from the radio at an extremely high volume.

She was silent for a minute, trying to hide a smile. I was trying really hard not to laugh. She just stood there, shaking with silent laughter so hard she looked like she was about to explode. I had a feeling that if I didn't say anything, I, also, would explode.

"You're still hotter." I finally said, breaking the silence. She looked up at me and started laughing that loud indescribable laugh of hers. She sat down on my bed and fell backwards. Lying on her back, with her hair strung out all around her, she looked so beautiful. I just wanted to reach out and touch her face. I didn't though. I restrained myself.

I sat down next to her and laid down also. She slid over so that her side was touching mine. She pressed her head into the crook of my neck, and whispered,

"Should we be doing this?"

"No." I said, as I pulled her into my arms. We laid there for a minute, me completely still, her nestled in my arms, with her head resting on my chest.

"But we're going to anyways." I whispered into her ear as she closed her eyes.

**_Well I'm off to go watch Cedward lol...so ugly...just...ick lol...anyways, review your little hearts out, okay? You better, cause it took me forever to write this lol_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Happy day afterEaster!! Or, If you're an Athiest or something, Happy 24th of March!! (7 months til my birthday!) Wow lol, I got like, 6 reviews...amazing...especially considering I got like, 11 reviews(like twice as much) on the 5th chapter of my oldest, not deleted, incredibly bad, althought not much longer (I'm redoing it) story...but I can't complain, at least people are reading it...it'd just be nice to know that some of those people are actually reading the entire thing, and not just the first part...oh, and I apologize, I have no clue how to spell Leslie the guyish way, so I probably mispelled it...I actually apologize for all typos I make, because my keyboards pretty jacked up and I normally don't catch my errors when I reread this stuff...plus the site keeps sticking tons of my words together every time I save..._**

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I woke up at least an hour later, with Miley on top of me, to the sound of my front door slamming. It took a while for everything to sink in, I was pretty disoriented, what with having just woke up. Being stupid, and being a guy, the first thing I thought about was _why_ exactly Miley was on top of me. She was just laying there, with her right leg wrapped around my left, her face buried in my chest, and a strand of her hair in my mouth. Don't ask me how it got there. I don't know how it could be comfortable, sleeping like that, and I don't exactly remember her moving, so I guess she probably moved after I fell asleep.

A couple seconds later, I realized that somebody was in my house. I could hear whoever it was coming down the hall, so I didn't have time to wake Miley up and get her to move, so I pulled the strand of her hair out of my mouth, reached down for blanket at the end of my bed, and yanked it up overtop of us, just as my mom opened the door.

"Oh, hey Jake, I didn't know you were home..." She said, trailing off as she got a good look at me.

"What's under the blanket?" She asked me, suspiciously. Just then I could feel Miley move. I knew she was awake now. She obviously could tell how this situation depended on her silence, because she was making absolutely no noise. I couldn't even tell if she was breathing.

"Nothing." I instantly replied. Mom just looked at me, raising her eyebrow. She didn't believe me. Great.

"I'm just...bloated..." I explained further.

"Okay...forget I even asked..." She said, rolling her eyes in a way that reminded me of Miley.

Great. My girlfriend - is she my girlfriend? - reminds me of my mom. That's pretty weird, and not in a good way.

Mom opened my closet door and took my dirty clothes from the laundry basket I had inside of it, and turned around to face me.

"I almost forgot...your dad called...he wants you to spend Spring Break with him..." She said nonchalantly. My mom knew what I thought of my dad. In fact, her opinion was almost exactly the same.

My dad sort of, left my mom right after I was born. The reason I say sort of is this: He still lived with us, in a way, I mean, he slept in our house and paid the bills there, but every other minute of the day, he was either at work, or pretending to be at work, while he was really with his girlfriend. My parents didn't get divorced until I was 9, and every day, I grew to hate him more. I of course, knew he was cheating on mom, and I'm pretty sure she'd always known. I guess living with my mom, who just sat back and let it happen, made me feel the way I feel about infidelity. It's probably why I hate Brian so much. He could be the nicest guy in the world, although that will never happen, but I'd still hate him, all because of what he was doing behind his girlfriend's back.

"He really feels bad about not being around when you were a kid." Mom said, as she sat down on Miley's foot. At least, I was guessing it was Miley's foot. It wasn't mine, it was at the bottom of the bed, and it made Miley flinch when she sat on it, so I'm guessing it was her foot. Mom stood back up for a second, a shocked, but clueless, expression on her face, and chose another place to sit.

"How do you know that?" I asked. I sounded sort of rude, and I didn't want to sound that way, but I couldn't be nice when I was talking about my dad.

I snuck a look at my alarm clock. 5:57...we slept a lot longer than I thought we had.

"Jake, I knew your dad for five years before he started cheating. I can tell when he's lying."

"Can you really? Is that why he got away with it for almost 10 years?" I said. She cringed as I said it, and looked at me, with a sad look on her face.

"Jake...we've talked about this. You know how bad I feel about letting him do that to us, and I can't change what's already happened. Maybe he's changed. You haven't seen him in person for longer than an hour for almost 3 years now. I think you need to go see him." Her voice was louder now, she seemed more confident. I didn't want to ruin that, but I definately didn't want to spend a whole week with my dad.

"I won't go. I'm sorry mom, but I'm not going." That statement made her mad. She stood up, leaving the dirty laundry on the end of my bed, and put her hand on her hip in a motherly fashion.

"Leslie Ryan, he is your father, and you need to talk to him. I'm sorry but until you're 18, you have to listen to me...and I'm...I'm making you go." She yelled at me. Miley pressed her face against my chest even harder, probably to stop herself from laughing at the sound of my real name. For some reason it cracked her up every time she heard it.

Speaking of cracking, that's exactly what my mom did. She cracked. Mom had never made me talk to my dad before when I hadn't wanted to. She hardly ever forced me to do anything...maybe that's why I'd been so full of myself. Maybe having a more strict mom would be good for me...maybe it'd make me a better person. Maybe I'd be good enough for Miley if my mom had more rules.

"Okay." I said, calmly. She obviously had expected me to put up a fight, because she took the hand that wasn't on her hip, and pointed her finger at me.

"Well I don't care if- wait, you'll go?"

"Yeah, if you think I should go, I will." Miley dug her face even deeper into my upper ribcage. It was starting to hurt. I could tell she obviously thought I was a momma's boy. I _had_ given in pretty easily. But spring break was almost two months away,

"You will?" Mom asked again, repeating it more to herself than to me. I nodded and put my hands behind my head, as I looked up at my mom, thankful that I could sink into my mattress this easily. If I had a firm mattress, I couldn't have pulled off the bloated excuse.

I was pretty surprised that stupid excuse worked at all. Maybe mom thinks I'm getting fat. I better start working out again. I'll probably sign on to another movie and have to do it soon anyway.

"Yeah, sure mom." I said, waving my hand. I was getting pretty uncomfortable, what with a girl laying on top of me.

Mom finally picked up the dirty clothes and left the room. I waited until I heard her feet hit the ceramic tile in the kitchen, until I threw back the covers. Miley instantly sat up.

"Oh my god, that was close." I said, as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"Yeah." She said quietly, in a tone that told me she wasn't really listening to me. She got off my bed and sat down on the floor, on the side of my bed opposite the door.

"Your dad cheated on your mom?" She asked me, tilting her head back about 90 degrees, looking straight up at me.

"Yeah, when I was really young." I sat, swinging my legs over and setting a foot on either side of Miley's hips.

"I didn't know that...didn't you tell me he died? You said he like, got attacked by the tiger at the zoo...or something like that." She said, smirking at me.

"Okay, so that wasn't exactly true..." I admitted, smiling at her.

"I figured that much." She told me, before she stood up and turned to face me.

"I should probably go...how am I getting out?"

I looked around the room, thinking of a way to get her out without my mom noticing.

Window? Nah, it's a pretty small window.

Then I noticed a book sitting in my end table.

"The library. Come on, theres a door that goes onto the deck." I told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door.

I opened my bedroom door about a foot, to see if my my mom was out there, and about had a heart attack. She was standing right there.

"Jake, do you have your black jacket in there, I haven't seen it anywhere, and I need to wash it." She told me, resting a laundry basket, full of dirty clothes, on her hip.

"Ummm...I...uhh..." I stammered, before Miley shoved it into my hand. I reached through the small crack in the doorway, and handed the jacket to my mom.

"Thanks..." She said, before heading back to the laundry room.

I stuck my head out the door and listened, looking both ways, before I pulled Miley out into the hall and steered her towards the library. Well...we called it a library...It only had one bookshelf, and it wasn't completely full...but it _was_ a big bookshelf. We had our computer in there, and a mini-fridge.

I opened the door, and we both snuck out. I crossed the room and silently opened the patio door. Miley exited my house, but turned around before I could close the door.

"You doing anything tonight?"

"No, why?" I asked, pushing my hair back. It was pretty hot out there, and a certain gust of hot Malibu air had just made me start sweating.

"My dad and Jackson are out at some geekfest somewhere...they won't be back until real late...why don't you come over in like, half an hour...and bring your swimsuit, okay?" She asked...well, sort of demanded, smiling, before she turned and stepped down onto the second level of our triple level deck.

"See you later then." I said quietly.

"Yeah, see you..." She said, before hopping down onto the third level, and then to the ground. I watched her leave my back yard, and stood in the library for about five minutes, thinking about what we could possibly be doing that required a swimsuit, before I went back out into the hallway, after grabbing a soda from the mini-fridge.

I went to my bedroom and searched for a pair of swimming trunks. I found three, set them on my bed, and tried to decide which pair to wear. Man I'm such a girl.

Eventually, I choose an olive green pair with white flowerish things all over them. Not girlish flowers, they were more...Hawaiian. The other ones were pretty ugly anyways, so this was really my only choice.

I folded up the rest of my choices, stuffed them into the top drawer of my dresser, and went down to the kitchen, where my mom was nowhere to be seen. I took a look at the microwave. 6:37. I had three minutes until I had to leave.

I went back to my room, changed my clothes, and grabbed a white t-shirt on my way out.

"Mom!!" I yelled, on my way out.

"What?" She yelled back.

"I'm going to the beach!" I told her.

"Okay, don't be out too late, you've got that photoshoot in the morning with Hannah Montana!"

"Okay...what?" I asked, stopping halfway out the door. I did not remember that.

"What for?"

"For the KCAs. Remember, you're hosting them with Hannah Montana. I told you on Thursday." She said.

"Oh...I don't remember that...well, thanks for telling me mom...see you later."

I left the house, with my hat and sunglasses on, and headed down towards Miley's house, trying to think of why I didn't remember my mom telling me about the KCAs. As I came up to the house, I decided it was probably because I was preoccupied with keeping my relationship with Miley secret.

I knocked on the door and she opened it in a second. She yanked me into the house and slammed the door shut.

"What the-" I started to say.

"Sorry, my nosy neighbors are outside right now." She explained.

She was wearing a turquoise bikini, and had a denim mini skirt over it. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She looked perfect like that. I stared at her for almost an entire minute, before I finally said something.

"Oh...okay...hey, did you know we're hosting the KCAs together?"

"We are? Isn't there normally only one host?" She asked, sitting on the couch, pulling a beach towel into her lap.

"That's what I thought, but I guess not, since we're both doing the photoshoot tomorrow."

"We are? So that's what that photoshoot's for..." She mumbled, before standing up.

"Come on, we're going to the beach." She said, grabbing a pair of sunglasses off the coffee table and putting them on. She swept her long ponytail off her shoulder, and it swung back and forth, across her back, like a pendelum for a couple seconds, as she walked away.

I followed her out the back door and down the beach for a minute, before I finally asked,

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"...It's getting dark, how are we gonna get back?"

"Quit asking questions Jake." She told me, laughing.

A moment later, as we were passing a small forest...well, that's what it looked like...she quickly veered off the path, and pulled me into the trees.

"What? Where are we going Miley?" I asked, whacking a branch out of my way.

"Just a minute..." She said, holding a large branch out of my way. I continued to follow her for about another minute, before the trees started thinning. I could see a small clearing up ahead, with a small body of water in the middle. Then I noticed the small stream of ocean water we'd been following.

"Ta da!" She yelled, throwing up her arms.

"What is it?" I asked, stepping further into the clearing.

"Water, stupid." She said, as she dropped the skirt she was wearing, tossed her sunglasses on top of it, and leaped into the water. I pulled off my shirt, hat, and sunglasses, and followed her in. It was pretty warm, but not so warm that it wasn't a relief to get wet. It was surprisingly deep too. I swam across to where she was sitting on a small ledge. I sat down next to her, and the water still went up to my chest.

"How'd you find this?" I asked her.

"I just kinda spaced out one day on the beach and wandered here...It took forever to find my way out."

"It's amazing." I said, looking around at the trees, and the flowers surrounding the small body of water. It was getting continually darker every second, and about half an hour after we had arrived, I could barely see anything.

We were swimming around, circling each other, laughing really loudly, when I noticed something standing off in the distance, hiding behind a tree.

I quickly grabbed a hold of Miley shoulder, obviously scaring her, because she stopping kicking her legs, and started to sink. I held her up, and pointed off into the distance.

"What's that?"

"I don't see anything. It's probably just a tree Jake, don't worry about it. Nobody comes out here." She tried to assure me, but I could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't so assured herself.

"Umm...can you let go of me?" She asked, before I let go and she swam away. I followed after her and tried to have fun. I looked back in the direction I'd been looking and didn't see anything. I'd probably just imagined it.

While I was looking the other way, Miley started singing. I turned back to her, and saw her sitting on the ground, up above the ledge, kicking her feet back and forth.

"I never understood before, I never knew what love was for. My heart was broke, my head was sore. What a feeling. Tied up in ancient history, I didn't believe in destiny. I look up, you're standing next to me, What a feeling." She sang watching me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, swimming towards her. I grabbed a hold of the ledge she was sitting above, and pulled myself up, as she answered.

"I'm singing."

"I know that, Miley, I'm not deaf."

"It's that song they play in like, a million romance movies. You _have _to know this one."

I shook my head and she rolled her eyes, before she started singing again.

"What a _feeling_ in my soul. Love burns brighter than sunshine. Brighter than _sunshine_. Let the rain fall, I don't care. I'm yours and _suddenly_ you're mine. Suddenly you're _mine. _And it's brighter than sunshine."

"Okay, I _do _know that song." I admitted, having recognized the chorus.

"Okay, then sing with me."

"No, I can't sing." I refused.

"Everybody can sing Jake. Just not well."

"Yeah, well I can't sing _well, _so I'm not going to."

"Oh come on. You know the words." She argued, giving me the infamous puppydog face.

"I never saw it happening, I'd given up and given in. I just couldn't take the hurt again. What a feeling." She sang, while trying to no avail to get me to sing along.

"Oh _come on_ Jake. You're no fun." She told me, pouting.

"Oh really?" I asked, smiling at her.

"Yes really."

"Are you sure?" I asked. She nodded.

I grabbed ahold of her and tossed her back into the water, which caused her to scream. She broke the surface and swam over to me, where she beat on my chest with her fist.

"Are you sure now?" I asked. she just smirked at me.

**_Okay, I realized yesterday that I forgot what to mention the songs I used in the previous chapter, so I'm gonna do that now, okay? Umm, the first one was Last night by Diddy (haha) the second one was Realize by Colbie Calliat, and the third one was You Drive Me Crazy, by Britney Spears! Oh, and the one I used in this chapter was Bright Than Sunshine by Aqualung...good song...anyways...  
Review!!_**


	6. Chapter 6

**_okay, so maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't, but I changed the summary...it actually kinda describes the plot line kind of...sort of...not really, but this far into it it does. Some of you will be happy to know that while I was on vacation, I extended this story (in my head) by maybe, ten chapters lol...it was originally gonna have maybe three or four more, but not anymore!! But then there's always you people that like short stories...sorry but I'm not giving you permission to quit on me, like I normally would!!_**

**_I would also like to say that I am not a guy. I understand that my many stories from a guy's point of view (just realized that I did that...) might give people that impression, if they haven't read my profile, but I thought I'd just clear that up. I am not, have not been, and never will be, a guy. Nor would I want to be. No offense to all the guys out there.

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Later that night, in my bedroom, I stared into the floor length mirror behind my door for almost an hour. I wasn't happy with myself. I was not a good person. I'd judged my dad for doing this same sort of thing for years, and now I was in his situation. I am such a hypocrite. I can't stop though. I know it sounds corny and all, but she fills that spot in my chest that has been empty forever. It'd be like pulling a sword out of a piece of glass. You'd get the sword out, but the glass would shatter in the process.

Wow, that sounded cornier than I thought it would. I'm a sad excuse for an actor. I can't be creative.

The only reason I quit staring at my reflection was my mom. She came in my room at 10 and told me that I had to go to bed. 10 might seem early to some people, but I do not do well with less than 10 hours of sleep. I can be extremely cranky. When that's the case, people don't like me, and I don't want that.

I tried to sleep, but my mind was fogged with images of Miley. Her face was swimming across the inside of my eyelids. I could remember her face in such detail that it surprised me. She'd stick out her tongue, and in my memory, it looked exactly like her. The way her face would scrunch up. The way her tongue curved. The memory Miley would smile, and it would be exact. I could see the exact color of her upper gums, the small lines around her eyes. It was amazing that I could remember somebody so perfectly. I couldn't even remember _myself_ like that.

Eventually, after hours of trying to clear my mind, I fell asleep. At least, I think I did. Next thing I knew, my mom was shaking me awake, telling me that I'd slept through my alarm and was going to be late. I jumped out of bed and threw on a t-shirt, some jeans, and a hat to hide my hair with. I grabbed a granola bar, my toothbrush, and my shoes, and ran outside to my car. I wasn't going too far, so I had decided to drive myself. It couldn't be _too_ dangerous. I sat down in the driver's seat, pulled my right shoe on, tossed the left into the passenger's seat, and started the car. I backed out of the driveway, nearly hitting the mailbox, and drove down the road wearing just the one shoe. I sped down the road, almost hit two different cars, and successfully pulled into the parking lot of the photographer's studio. I yanked my left shoe back onto my foot, after fishing it out from under the passenger's seat, and jogged inside.

While I was getting my hair fixed, Miley, with a different wig than usual, on, came up behind me. I looked up and, to her reflection, I said,

"Hey."

"What's up?" She asked, setting her hand on my left shoulder. The hairdresser, on my right, looked up at her, and she quickly removed her hand.

"Oh you know. Same old same old." I said, smiling, once I was sure the hairdresser wasn't looking. She smiled back at me, just as the woman started digging through a bucket of random hair stuff sitting on the counter.

"I've got to go get something. I'll be right back." She said, before leaving.

"New wig?" I asked, turning to Miley, once the hairdresser was gone.

"Yeah, you like it? I figured nobody'd be too suspicious if I went just a_ little_ longer..." She said, twirling a strand of fake hair, that now went about a third of the way down her back, instead of just past her shoulders, like the last one.

"Yeah. It's nice." I told her, setting my foot on a stool next to the hairdresser's table.

"You think it looks okay? I had to do it myself, of course, so I wasn't really sure." She asked me, staring into the mirror, rubbing her lips together.

"Yeah, it looks nice." I told her. It wasn't a lie. It was about half as wavy as her normal hair, but not as straight as usual, and she had little tiny braids spaced evenly throughout it.

"Good...I think it looks a little dull though...not as shiny as the old one." She told me, still twirling the same strand around her finger.

"You look beautiful. Like a supermodel, only better." I whispered, as the hairdresser came back.

"That's not true." Miley told me, rolling her eyes.

"It is." I assured her, as the hairdresser took out some scissors. I looked at the woman out of the corner of my eye, and she noticed my wary look.

"I'm just going to trim this one piece, it's sticks out too much." She told me, before she started snipping away without permission.

"Well, I better go get dressed." Miley said, before she smiled at me one last time and left in the same direction the hairdresser had before.

I sighed really loudly, at the thought of how pathetic I was. Why couldn't I say no to her? Why couldn't I have just stayed away? My life would be so much easier if I had more will power than a toothpick.

"Something wrong?" The hairdresser asked, as she fixed one last piece of my hair.

Yes.

"No."

"Okay, well, be careful when you get dressed." She told me, before sending me in the same direction Miley had disappeared to.

I was sent into one of two rooms at the end of a short, dark red, hallway. At the end, over top of the room I was supposed to go in, was some weird modern kind of lamp, hanging from the ceiling. It was kind of low, and I nearly hit my head on it, before getting inside. On a table in the back of the room, I found some black pants, a white dress shirt, a tuxedo jacket, and a dark orange tie. I assumed I was supposed to put them on, so I did. I was careful not to mess up my hair, like I'd been warned, but I still had to straighten it out with my fingers before I left the room.

The plan for this commercial had been explained to me before, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to do. I couldn't remember. All I knew, was that it had something to do with dancing, and that I was gonna get some slime thrown at me. I hadn't really paid much attention when my mom had tried to explain it to me.

Just as I started down the hallway, Miley came out of the other room, wearing a white, V-neck, knee-length cocktail dress with a wide band around the waste that was the same orange as my tie. It probably seems strange that I know how to describe a dress like that, but I'm an actor. We dress up for a living.

She turned around and faced me. She had a sort of confused look on her face. She pulled some of her false hair around and draped it over her shoulders, before asking me,

"Do you think this is too low cut?" I practically died laughing. I almost choked on my next words.

"You're asking _a guy _if he thinks your dress is too low cut? What do you think I'm gonna say?"

"Well I don't know what you're gonna say, but I know what you're thinking, and if the parents of the kids that will be watching this commercial knew what I knew, they'd want you kicked off set."

"You know me too well." I told her, playfully wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

"But seriously Jake, it's a kids channel. Do you think it's too low cut _for them." _She asked, looking up at me.

"Miley, we live in a time where the model on the cover of the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated isn't even wearing a swimsuit. I think they've seen worse. It's not even that low."

"Okay...but when I get hate mail from angry moms, I'm forwarding it to you." She said, before skipping down the hallway, swinging her arms back and forth like a little girl. I did the same, sans the skipping and arm swinging, and ended up in a large, brightly lit, stark white room in the center of the studio.

"Good, you're ready!" A woman with an French accent so strong I could hardly understand her, cried, once we entered the room.

"Ummm, yeah." Was all Miley said.

"Hannah...what a pleasure to meet you." The woman, who I'm guessing is the photographer, said. It sounded more like "Awwnuh, vut a vleasure to mate vu," though.

"You too K." Miley said, shaking her hand. "I've heard you're really good, so I can't wait to get started.

The lady pretty much stayed away from me. She just continued to blush every second between the compliment she received from Hannah Montana, and the time we left.

"That was...interesting." I muttered, as we left the building together.

"I thought it was fun." Miley said, digging through her purse, looking for her keys. I had mine in my hand already.

"You weren't the one that kept getting slime shot at his back. That's stuff hurt. And it _smelled _awful." Miley laughed and said,

"I got some of it in my hai-" She stopped talking and stared down the street, with an expression of suppressed laughter on her face. I followed her line of sight and saw, down the road, a tow truck, towing, what else? My car!

"Oh my god Jake." She whispered, before she burst with laughter.

"This is _not _funny!" I said, trying to decide whether I should chase the tow truck or go back inside and call the impound lot. I would take a step towards the truck, and then towards the studio. I rocked back and forth for about 30 seconds, before Miley grabbed my wrist and started dragging me across the parking lot.

"I'll take you to the impound lot, don't worry." She told me, still laughing.

"Quit laughing, it's not my fault I can't park in the right place. I missed the first month of Driver's Ed, remember?"

"Not really...but I'll believe you." She said, before she hit the unlock button on her remote and opened the driver's side door of her car. I circled around and got in on the passenger's side.

"You know what? The tow trucks here are really slow. The driver's are always stopping for donuts at about this time, so your car probably won't even get to the lot for another hour. Why don't you come hang out at my house for a while?" She asked, starting the engine.

"Why do you know so much about tow truck drivers?" I asked her, putting my seat back and pulling the visor down to block the sun.

"Well, my uncle Earl used to be one, back when he could still fit behind the wheel...and when I first got my license...I kinda drove like you." She told me, smiling.

"If you're such a great driver, why don't you teach me?" I asked her, poking her shoulder as she exited the small parking lot.

"I will. But not now. I'm tired and I really want a brownie." She glanced at me as she accelerated, and then asked, again,

"So do you wanna stop by my house? I mean, we were working together, my dad will have no reason to be suspicious."

"Umm, sure." I said, closing my eyes.

When she pulled into her driveway, Miley's dad was coming out of the house.

"Hey Miles, I'm going to the grocery store, you need anything?" He asked, as she got out of the car.

"Umm, I think we're out of peanut butter..." She said, putting her keys back in her purse. I climbed out of the car and stood there for a second, as Mr. Stewart looked at me.

"I've got that one on the list already." He said, holding up a long piece of paper.

"Oh, hey Jake, haven't seen you in a long time." He said, coldly, as he looked at me.

"Yeah, I've been...busy...and stuff."

"Right." He said, uninterested in me. "You to better not be getting busy...and stuff, while I'm gone." He said, this one directed to Miley. She just rolled her eyes and hit him on the shoulder.

'Jake's car got impounded, so I told him he could stay here until it makes it to the lot." She told him, like he hadn't just made a reference to his suspicions of his daughter's infidelity.

"Okay...well Jackson's upstairs...being Jackson...so don't go in his room unless you have a death wish."

"Just like usual." Miley said, placing a couple bumper stickers and an ugly hood ornament on her car, before grabbing some flimsy magnetic license plates and sticking them on the real ones. I guessed it was so people wouldn't think she had the exact same car as Hannah Montana.

She locked all four doors, heading towards the house.

"Bye daddy!" She yelled over her shoulder, before opening the door and ushering me inside. She went straight to the kitchen and unwrapped a plate of brownies.

"You want one?" She asked with her mouth already full of one.

"No thanks." I said, sitting down at her kitchen table.

She sat next to me with a glass of water and continued to chew. I just stared at her. Why did she look so amazing? She had her mouth stuffed with a brownie for Pete's sake! And it was bursting from her mouth too, she had crumbs all over. Her hair was sort of messed up too, since she'd just taken off the wig. Why? It is not natural to look like that! There must be something wrong with my eyes. Or maybe I'm just biased, and she's actually really ugly, but I won't admit it.

"What?" She asked, with her brownie induced accent.

"Nothing." I quickly muttered, before hearing a loud bang outside. I turned around to see what it was, and saw a familiar, although not welcome, blonde head at the door, sticking a key she got who knows where, in the door. She didn't see me, and burst into the house. Miley instantly stood up, and ran into the kitchen. She pretended to be busy doing dishes, but Lilly knew better. I think.

"Miley! I've got to talk to you!" She said, sort of angrily. Oh no.

"Oh, Jake...you're here...of course..." She said, with her usually perky voice, as she noticed me. I was glad to see that hadn't changed...yet.

"Ummm, hi Lilly." I said, getting up from my seat and turning rotating in the direction of the exit.

"No, stay here, I need to talk to you too." She told me, as I tried to leave inconspicuously. I turned back around and saw the look of absolute horror on Miley's face. I figured out then, what Lilly wanted to talk to us about.

"I saw you guys down by the beach the other day." Lilly said, and Miley slammed down on the kitchen floor. She pressed her back against the cabinets, and put her head back, with her eyes closed. I just stood there like an idiot.

"I think you know what you're doing is wrong." Lilly said quietly, as she sat down on the floor across from Miley.

"I know." Miley said, snifling. Great. She was breaking down, and I was just standing here. I didn't want to try to comfort her, since Lilly was sitting there, doing it herself. She was still being a friend.

"I just can't...I can't help it." Miley said, opening her eyes and looking at Lilly. Lilly didn't say anything.

"Do you think...is there something wrong with me?" She asked her best friend.

"I always thought that was obvious." Lilly said, smiling. Miley lightly tapped her friend's knee with her foot and scowled at her.

"Oh, you means some wrong with you that would make you cheat on your boyfriend?" Lilly asked, with a completely serious expression and a tone to match.

Miley's eyes got big at Lilly's blunt way of putting it, so Lilly added,

"Then no." Miley looked down atthe floor, tracing the lines in the tile with her finger.

"I think you know what you need to do." Lilly said, before getting up.

"I can't though. I can't break up with Brian. _He's_ got to break up with _me. _Why isn't he bored of me yet?"

Lilly just glanced at me and back at Miley, before she turned around and left the house.

"Leave the key!" Miley yelled after her. Lilly grudgingly set the key on the counter, and slipped out the back door.

I kept standing where I was, and Miley looked up at me, her eyes red, I hoped, from crying.

"I think we need to end this." She told me. My heart just about cracked in half at those words. I know it shouldn't have. I should be glad that I no longer have to be a sinner.

"At least for now." She added.

_At least for now. _That meant there was hope for the future. I could live with that.

**_ta da...wow lol I updated my other story yesterday afternoon and i have exactly zero reviews lol...oh well...I'm thinking of quiting this category anyways, once I'm done with this and my other one...It's getting to gay and jonasey for me...not that theres anything wrong with being a homosexual, or a jonas, or both or whatever, its just that those kind of stories are taking over, and my mind draws a blank when it comes to those kind of things...I just can't write them...oh well, I did a pretty good iCarly oneshot, maybe I could start doing that..._**


	7. Chapter 7

_**omg, I could've died today lol. So today...or yesterday, it is after midnight...and if you live on the opposite side of the earth, it could even be two days ago...anyways, they found this threat written on the wall in the guy's bathroom at school...saying that something (a school shooting, or a bomb, they're guessing) was gonna happen...so the teachers and the principal all freaked out, and we went into lockdown, and the police came and took out their guns...so I was in Geometry for 3 1/2 hours today, before they finally let us go...and now I don't have an excuse not to finish this...dang it.**_**_

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I stood there, like a statue, trying to figure out what exactly it was, that was going on. I understood what she had said, but it wasn't making sense to me. I'm a selfish idiot, who doesn't understand why she won't stay with me. Why can't some alien from Planet X just beam down to Earth and brainwash me? I'd say my brain is pretty dusty right now...

Miley was still sitting on the floor, but she wasn't keeping eye contact with me. I blinked a couple times, before clearing my throat, and telling her,

"I guess I'll...see you later then..."

I turned and left her house, wondering just how, exactly, we'd be able to co-host the KCAs together now. Talk about awkward. I'd probably be better off shooting myself, and skipping the whole show. I'm definitely putting that on my to-do list.

I ended up in her driveway, before I realized that my car wasn't there. I let out a huge sigh, and debated whether or not I should go back inside and ask her to take me to the impound lot. I decided not to; It would be better for me, if I just moved on, and stayed away from her, as long as it was possible. So, wishing I had worn better shoes, I started down the sidewalk, making sure to step on each and every crack there was, pretending it was Brian, all the way downtown.

I headed in the direction I knew the impound lot was in, and stopped at a coffee shop, to ask somebody how to get there. The man behind the counter pointed me in that direction, without realizing who I was. I figured I must've looked pretty depressed. I mean, sure, I was wearing a pair of Nylon shorts, and a Nike t-shirt, a cheap outfit like that might throw people off, but I'm pretty sure it was the frown I was wearing that actually disguised me. I realized, just then, how much I used that stupid fake smile. People couldn't even recognize me without it anymore.

I passed a couple of vacant lots, and a boarded up office building, before I reached the impound lot. It was in a run down part of town, and there weren't many people around, so I didn't have to worry about being surrounded by hobos or anything like that.

I recognized the lot by the tow trucks parked out front. The drivers were just climbing out of two of them, and attached to the third one, was my car.

I went up to the office, and explained why I was there. There was a woman behind the front desk, and she definitely recognized me. She was staring for what seemed like eternity, before she figured out I was talking to her. Eventually, she let me pay my fine, and I went back outside to get my car.

I was extremely frustrated and depressed, and it was showing. I really wanted to get out of there, so I could go home and be frustrated and depressed all by myself. The lot workers didn't seem to have that in mind though, and practically ambushed me the second I got to my car. I sighed to myself, and tried to keep in mind the fact that fans were part of the job, no matter how upset you are.

After signing at least 15 autographs, I got in my car, slammed the door, and sped out of the parking lot and down the street, feeling even worse than I had upon leaving Miley's house.

This definitely tops the list of worst days in my life. Not only did the girlfriend I share with an guy who didn't know he was sharing, dump me, but I got slime splattered all over my back multiple times, and my car got towed. I bet you when I get home, the bomb squad will be there to tell me they're sorry, but I got fifty pipe bombs in the mail, and they all exploded at the same time and blew up my house.

The only thing I can think of that's worse than this, would be that time Ricky Hill gave me a wedgie and pushed me down a hill, way back in the second grade. That kid was evil! I broke my arm falling down that stupid hill, and I had to have a girl write for me in school, and she had _horrible _handwriting.

I nearly hit the mailbox, again, pulling into my driveway, which only made this situation worse. I shut off the engine and climbed out of my car. I tripped on a crack, dropped my keys, and jammed my finger on the doorknob, and said about every cuss word in the book, under my breath, in the time it took to get from my car to the front door.

So I was pretty angry by the time I got inside, which probably would've gotten me in trouble, had my mom been there. Fortunately, she wasn't, so I could go sulk in my bedroom without being interrogated like a suspect in a murder investigation.

I went into my room and leaped onto my bed, where I buried my face in the pillow and basically sufficated for what seemed like forever. I looked up at the clock, and saw that I'd only been dying on the inside for fifteen minutes.

I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I sat there for at least an hour, in the dark, and tried to clear my mind, but it wouldn't work. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Everything my eyes landed on reminded me of her though. The laundry basket. That time she hid under my covers while my mom got the laundry crossed my mind. The ceiling fan. _She _had a ceiling fan. The radio... She used to sing along to the radio. She was _on _the radio.

I climbed out of bed and turned it on. Immediately, Taylor Swift's voice burst out of the speakers.

"You should've said no. You should've gone home. You should've thought twice before you let it all go."

I _should've _said no. If I'd just stayed away from her, like I'd successfully done for three entire years, I wouldn't feel like this. It never would've started, and it never would've ended

I switched the station, before she started singing something like "Jake Ryan, you're an asshole, why don't you go jump off a...castle?" Yeah, I've just proved that I'm no songwriter.

I let out a huge sigh, when Taylor Swift's voice came out again. She was following me!

"If you're missing me, you'd better keep it to yourself, cause coming back around here would be bad for your health."

That's a true statement. I _do _miss her, and if I went to her house, her boyfriend would probably beat me to a bloody pulp.

I turned the station one last time, and turned it off, after I heard her sing,

"Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day. Just walk away, ain't no use defending words that you will never say."

I think Taylor Swift is trying to get me to commit suicide.

I groaned and got up, to go to the kitchen. I started looking through the cupboards, trying to find some sort of cold medicine that would make me tired. I took out some NyQuil, and took the highest dose suggested on the bottle. It tasted gross, so I got myself a glass of water to wash it down with. I set the glass down and went into the living room. I looked out the window, and I saw a huge, billboard looming over the city, with Miley's face on it. I immediately pulled the blinds down, nearly ripping them off the wall, on each and every window. It made me feel so much better, to turn off the picture of here blinking on and off in my head. I laid down on the couch, and closed my eyes.

Within minutes, I fell asleep.

A couple close to painless weeks later, I stood on the orange carpet, posing for pictures, waving at the kids off in the sidelines, pretending that I could handle standing next to the one person I really_ couldn't _handle standing next to. I did my best not to look at her, and when I did, I stared at her nose. That sounds weird, but if I looked at her eyes, or her mouth, or any other part of her body that was even the tiniest bit more interesting, I wouldn't be able to stop staring. I've found that when you have something, you don't look at it as much, but once it belongs to somebody else, you can't help but continually glance at it.

I was trying so hard not to clench my fist, like I wanted to, that my fingertips were turning white. I almost felt mad at her, for not ending it with Brian, like she should, for choosing her secret over me, even for just being Hannah Montana. I knew deep down, that it wasn't her fault, and that I was actually the one to blame, for tempting her, but I still wanted to just yell at her.

I could tell she was also trying to avoid looking at me. Every time she'd turn my direction, she'd look over the top of my head, and if I brushed against her, while we posed for pictures, she'd stiffen. She wore a fake smile all down the carpet, until we finally got to separate and go down the carpet ourselves.

Inside the theatre, We headed back stage, to get ready for our big entrance. We both had to wear these weird plastic bag-like suits over our clothes, so that we didn't get slime on them. It was pretty difficult to get them on, especially with the camera and the weird voice-over guy following me practically everywhere. Every time I'd get a drink of water, he's be like "Jake Ryan, save some for the fishes will you?". I'd be talking to one of the presenters, and the guy would say (insert presenter's name here)! Quit asking Jake what kind of teeth whitener he uses!"

Let's just say I was about to punch the guy, by the time Hannah and I were up on the platform we were supposed to slide down onto the stage from.

I could hear the pre-taped opening skit playing down below, but I tried not to pay much attention. Hannah did most of the talking, just like she usually did.

There was some orange stained glass blocking us from the audience, but they could see our shadows through it. I stared at the glass the whole time, and I suspect Hannah did the same, because neither of us looked at, nor talked to, the other, the entire time we were up there.

The stage below lit up, and I could hear the cameras being turned on and adjusted. The audience got quiet, and the deep-voiced announcer introduced us.

"Now please welcome, your TWO hosts, Hannah Montana...and Jake Ryan" Okay, so the guy didn't really pause that long, but it seemed like he did. Right after he said the name of Miley's alter-ego, the crowd went wild, and you could barely hear him say my name. People screamed then too, but not as loudly. It sort of made me feel unwelcome. I ignored it though, and glanced quickly at Hannah, before letting myself slide down the giant slime covered water slide, and into a shallow pool of the green stuff in the center of the stage. We both climbed out at the same time, as was rehearsed, and took off our plastic bag outfits, unanimously, just as we had rehearsed.

I was wearing a black tux underneath, with an orange tie, and Hannah was wearing this form-fitting, Jake Ryan's heart-breaking, orange dress, that ended about mid-thigh. She looked extremely hot. Too hot for a kid's show, I'd have to say.

The music for the opening song started. I feel there's no need to say she'd be singing it. I think it's pretty obvious, her being the singer, and me, the actor.

They had redone I Got Nerve specially, for the show, and called it "I'll Get Slimed" I wasn't sure who "I" was, but I had a feeling I'd be getting left out.

Hannah started singing, and we both started the dance we'd rehearsed so many times in the last two weeks.

"We've just begun…the KCAs…This year all of you have had a say…don't wanna wait…for slime…The sliming will come believe me!

Don't close your eyes, 'cause you don't wanna miss it, Cause I know that it will be great.

I know where to stand, I know where it's at. I will not run away when it's sliming time. It's really really green, and if you voted right, I'm gonna get what I deserve. I'll get slimed!"

After that part, I tuned out the rest of the song, and focused on my dance steps. We finished, and I felt relieved that I'd gotten through it without messing up. That had been my goal for the night, so now Hannah could take over the show, like she undoubtedly would.

I did my best to smile at the audience, which was freaking out like a bunch of crazed preteen girls meeting their idol for the first time.

Eventually, the crowd quieted a little bit, and Hannah stepped forward, to start the show.

"Welcome to the Kid's Choice Awards 2011!!" She yelled. Her voice spread through the room, and everybody got quiet.

"You might have heard something, maybe, about there being _two _hosts this year?" It was the understatement of the year. There'd been commercials airing over five hundred times a day, and most of them said something stupid like "For the first time ever, the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards will be hosted by two hosts! Two! Two! Two! Two! Count 'em, two! Two _whole _hosts! Both humans, each one whole."

The audience cheered, and Hannah smiled.

"Well that's a lie." They quieted down, waiting to hear what she was going to say. She put her finger in her ear, pretending she had a ear bud in there.

"Oh..it is? Really? Are you _sure?_" She looked at me, and back to the audience.

"Never mind. I lied. There_ are _two hosts this year." She turned to me, and looked right in my eyes for the first time in weeks.

"Sorry J-jake" She fake apologized, her voice cracking in reality, "I thought you were here to bring me bananas!" A banana flew from backstage, and she caught it, something she'd had trouble with all through rehearsals.

Hannah turned back to the audience, and said, in a falsely cheerful tone,

"It turns out, I was wrong, and he's actually here to-"

"Finish her sentences." I interrupted.

"Yeah...because with all the _sliming_, I might not-"

"want to open her mouth." I finished. I looked out into the audience, and saw Taylor Swift sitting in the third row. I pegged that as a bad sign, and did my best not to look at her, throughout the entire show.

During a commercial break at the end of the show, we stood backstage, with several of the presenters, who'd just gotten off the stage. Hannah had a plastic cup full of punch in her hand, something she'd been drinking all through the show, and I was eating a cookie.

"This punch is _really _good." Miranda Cosgrove, who'd also been drinking the magical addictive punch, commented, staring, for some weird reason, at the center of the large amount of space between Hannah and I.

"_I know._" Hannah replied, sounding strange. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but I didn't really want to say anything to her. "I wish my dad was here...too bad he had to go to that stupid songwriters hall of fame thing..." She mumbled, taking another drink of the punch I sort of wanted to try, even though I hated punch.

Some blonde girl I recognized, but couldn't name, came up to Hannah and hugged her like it was going out of style, before skipping off to go bother somebody else.

It was getting a little too weird for me, so I headed off to get ready to go back on stage.

I was standing right off stage, trying to attach my microphone to my shirt, when Hannah came up to me and wrapped her arms around me so tightly, I thought I would die.

"_I love _you Jake." She slurred, before heading back onto stage, tripping over nothing.

_"What_?" I asked, turning around, like somebody else could explain this to me. I noticed Miranda trip over her own feet too, headed in the direction of the bathroom.

They shoved me back onto the stage before I could figure out what was going on.

Hannah and I repeated our lines almost perfectly, although Hannah said hers in a more dreamy tone than usual, we got slimed, and the lights started going off, as the awards show ended. The whole thing had gone by in a sort of blur, for me.

"I love you!" Hannah shouted out to nobody in particular.

"I love _you_ Jake. I really do." She kept saying. Next thing I knew, she had her arms around my neck, and I was wearing a Hannah Montana necklace.

"What, are you drunk?" I asked her, as she stared, unfocused, into my eyes.

"Huh? Nooooooo...noo...no, definitely nooooooooooot...maybe...am I? What do you think Jakey?" She slurred.

"How do you get drunk at the Kid's Choice Awards?" I asked her, in disbelief, as, I yanked my head out of the noose she'd made with her arms.

"I did nooooot...I did not...I got slimed Jakey." She told me, sounding like a small child. I noticed a police officer motioning for me, so I drug her off stage, as the audience started evacuating the building.

"What's going on? What's wrong with her?" I asked him, as Hannah sunk to her knees, and leaned against the wall, with her eyes closed.

"Do you know if she had any of the punch?" The officer asked me, staring at Hannah out of the corner of his eye.

"Umm, yeah, she did...why?"

"One of the crew members drugged it. We're trying to get everybody affected home, they should be fine, they just need rest." He explained. Drugging the punch at the KCAs? Seriously, there's better ways to get attention then that. You could hold the president hostage, or run through the streets naked screaming "I have a bomb, guess where I hid it!"

I swear, Taylor Swift is behind all this bad luck. I shouldn't have looked at her, or turned the radio on, or _any_ of it.

I noticed Hannah pulling at her wig, so I quickly kicked the bottom of her foot, to get her attention, and said,

"I'll take her home, then." I told the officer, before I pulled Hannah up.

"Umm...alright...we've been trying to get a hold of her father, but we haven't had any luck yet..." The officer told me.

"Oh, that's alright, I'll get her home, she'll be fine."

I didn't wait for an answer, and grabbed Hannah's hand, pulling her out to my waiting limo with me.

"Where are we going Jakey?" She asked me, doubled over with her face between her knees, as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"You're going to my house with me." I told her. I knew she normally spent an hour trying to lose any followers every time she went out in public, and I didn't really want to do that, so I planned on holding her prisoner in my bedroom all night, while I slept on the couch. Easy , right? Yeah, you'd think so...

**_Ugh, it's late...I want to go to bed...so I will...but yeah, the whole drugged punch thing I actually going to have a point to it, okay? It will, I swear it will._**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Still alive and in one piece! I haven't been blown up, stabbed, strangled, shot or brainwashed...  
_****_  
I've been reading random people's stories, and it kinda got me in the mood to keep going with this...I really want to finish it so I can get started with my Moliver...  


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I guess sometimes, when people think of celebrities, they think of partying, of drugs and of alcohol, but when you think of Hannah Montana, that's _not _what you think of. You think of upbeat happy music, of colorful clothes and blonde hair, and of, if you're me, the possibility of death.

However, at this particular moment, in the backseat of my limo, I _wasn't _thinking of her like that. It was sort of impossible, considering she was so drugged up she probably couldn't remember her own name. She was acting like a small child, instead of the mature beyond her years teenage girl she was.

"Jakey...look, a duck!" She pointed out the window at a giant restaurant sign, in the shape of a _chicken. _I didn't say anything, and let her point out random things I didn't care about, while my limo driver was taking the long way, to lose the small caravan of paparazzi following us.

A few blocks from my house, she unbuckled her seat belt and turned around, to look out the back window. I kept my arm ready, to stop her from falling off the seat if the driver hit the brakes. Hannah waved at random people that couldn't see her, due to the blacked-out windows, for a block or two, and then, about 30 seconds from my house, she ripped off the wig.

"Hey, put that back on!" I hissed, ripping it from her her hands. I tried to put it back on her head, but she kept struggling, so I just stuffed it into my jacket pocket, while the limo stopped. I leaned forward and told the driver there was no need to help us out, before I opened the door and pulled Miley out with me. She tried to pull her arm out of my grasp, but I kept a firm grip on it. Eventually, she relaxed, so I let her go, which turned out to be a mistake, because the second her arm was free, she attempted to pull off her shimmery gold strapless dress. That's right. My ex-girlfriend was stripping, right in front of me. Heck, she was stripping in front of enough old people to fill Florida.

As much as, in the VERY back of my mind, I wanted to see her naked, I couldn't let her do it outside, so I grabbed a hold of her hand again, and said,

"Keep your clothes on Miley."

"Miley? Whaaaaaat kind of name issssss that?" She slurred, smiling at me.

I ignored her, once again, and opened the door, which I then pushed her through, before she had a chance to show my old geezer of a neighbor her bare backside.

"Hey, quit pushing me Jakey...I can walk by myse-" She tripped and caught herself by grabbing a hold of the coat rack in the corner.

"Come on, you've got to lay down for a while, okay?" I ordered, acting like I was talking to a dog, instead of my ex.

"Okay..." She whispered, grabbing my outstretched hand. I lead her up the stairs, to my room, where I set her on the bed, like she was a doll, instead of a human. I started going through my dresser, trying to find something more comfortable for her to sleep in. I found a pair of black nylon shorts, and a navy blue YMCA t-shirt, and set them on the bed, next to her now sleeping body.

I grabbed her shoulder, and attempted to shake her awake, which sort of worked, because she opened her eyes, but when she did, she just pushed my hand away and rolled over onto her side.

"Hey...Miley, wake up." I whispered, trying to wake her again.

"No...I wanna...I wanna sleep."

"You can once you change your clothes. Come on, I know that dress is expensive, you don't wanna sleep in it."

"Yeah...I guess...you're right..." She agreed, sitting up. I stood up to leave, to give her some privacy, but she didn't seem to want any, because she just let the dress drop to the floor while I was standing there, and picked up the t-shirt.

"Hey, give me a minute to get out, why don't you." I said, turning away as quickly as I could. Let's just say the dress she'd been wearing had a neckline that made it sort of impossible to wear even a strapless bra. That's right, all the time we'd been "going out" for lack of a better word, she wouldn't change her clothes when I was in the room, no matter if I had my back to her or not, but when I was actually going to leave the room of my own free will, she showed everything without a care.

I don't want to admit this, because I'll probably sound like a perv, but I can't lie and say I didn't want to smile.

I heard her laugh, as I closed the door behind me, which seemed sort of weird, because, in normal circumstances, she'd be extremely embarrassed if I saw her like that.

I went back downstairs, and dug through the guest bedroom closet, looking for a blanket to use while I slept on the couch tonight. I set up my temporary bed, and before I could turn around, something slammed into me.

"Hey, Jakey, you know what?" Miley asked me, practically digging herself out of the giant dent she probably left in my back. She climbed over the back of my couch, and turned around to look at me.

"_What?_"

"I love you." She said, sounding a TINY bit more awake than she had since we'd been here.

"Sure you do Miley." I said sarcastically, sitting down next to her.

"No, I'm serious Jake. I really do."

I looked right in her eyes and asked,

"Have you ever heard of The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf?" She nodded, so I continued. "Well, this is the same thing, only I call this, "The Drugged Up Pop Star Who Cried I Love You."

She tilted her head to the side, looking confused, so I added, "Never mind."

"But seriously...I do Jake...Brian's stupid...I dooooon't like him at allllll..." She continued slurring.

"Tell me this, then..." I knew there was no point asking a serious question right now. I would probably get a better answer from one of those headless mannequins at the mall. "Why won't you break up with him? Is your secret really that important to you?"

She stared at me, and didn't say anything, for a few minutes. When she finally did speak up...all she said was,

"I'm tired." She yawned and closed her eyes, then her head tipped back and she started snoring, all while sitting up. I stared at her for a minute, trying to decide whether or not I should move her. She lost her balance and tipped over, so that she was in a horizontal position. She wrapped her arms around my pillow, so I decided to just cover her up and sleep in my own bed. When mom got home in the morning, she'd be kind of weirded out, but it'd be better than waking her up.

I went upstairs and brushed my teeth, before changing my clothes and getting in bed. I was so tired I almost didn't notice the door open, or the weight added to the other side of the bed. I was, however, fully awake when Miley said,

"It's not that important...I don't know why I'm staying with Brian...but I don't think it's my secret..." THEN, she wrapped her arms around me so tightly there was NO way I'd be getting out, pressed her face into my _armpit_, and started snoring. Again. The snoring I mean, this was the first time she'd stuck her nose in my armpit. I think. My memory's not that great.

I stayed up for another hour, nearly sufficating to death, while replaying what she'd said in my head. At about 1 in the morning, I decided she wasn't going to let me go, so I fell asleep.

In the morning, I realized I hadn't shut my window shades all the way, so now, this extremely bright ray of sunlight fell right on my eyes, making it hard for me to sleep. Also not helping, was the fact that my ex-girlfriend was sleeping in the same bed as me, and _still_ had her face shoved into my armpit_. _

She started moving, so I closed my eyes and got ready for the moment she saw where she was and started freaking out. I tried to look like I was sleeping, which didn't really work, because, about thirty seconds later, I heard her say,

"Jake. I know you're awake."

I opened my eyes and timidly looked into her lit up face. It sort of hurt my eyes, because the sunlight was reflecting off the back of her head in a way that nearly blinded me.

"Could you, umm..." She scratched her nose, trying to get my attention off the embarassed look on her face. "possibly...explain?"

"Explain what?" I asked. I was sort of disoriented, I didn't know what exactly she was asking.

"Explain why I can't remember the end of the show?"

"Oh...right...well...somebody, uh, drugged the punch you guys were drinking...so I took you here, since your dad isn't home...and somehow...you ended up in my bed...?" I _tried _to explain it. She sighed, ran her fingers through her hair, and said,

"_Wonderful..._I sort of remember coming here..." She looked up at me, with a terrified look on her face. "I didn't do anything really embarassing, did I?"

"Ummm...besides trying to take your clothes of on my front porch...no."

"Oh my god...you didn't...did you stop me? I mean, you didn't see anything...did you?"

"The answer to your first question, yes, the answer to the second, I did...but you were inside, so nobody else did."

She ran her fingers through her messy hair again, and pulled her legs towards her, sitting indian style. I don't know how, but she looked absolutely amazing, in my clothes. It was weird, I mean, they were way too big for her...maybe my brain's just messed up, and _that's _why I think that. I really don't know.

"Did I...did I, _say, _anything?"

I debated whether or not I should tell her, I mean, she probably didn't mean what she'd said.

"You told me you loved me...like fifty times..._and..._you said that...you weren't staying with Brian to protect your secret..."

Her face turned red, and she looked down at her lap.

"Ummm...I sort of remember saying that..."

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it." I said, tosing my blankets down to the end of the bed, to avoid looking at her.

"The funny thing is...I think I _did_ mean it..." She told me, looking up at me again. She stared right into my eyes, and my elbows went weak, so the arms holding me up quit doing their job, and I fell forward. I was within centimeters of her face.

"How...how exactly, is that funny?" I asked her, regaining my balance, although I still felt like I'd tip over any minute.

"I don't know..." She whispered, still staring at me.

In seconds, the weeks we'd spent away from each other, trying to be good people, were for nothing, because next thing I knew, I was kissing her, and she wasn't resisting. She sat down on my outstretched legs, and wrapped her own around my waste, before tossing her hair over her shoulder, to get it out of the way.

This is horrible. We should NOT be doing this. This is BAD, really really bad. I was only making this harder for myself.

To make matters worse, while we were...er...sinning and stuff...my _mother _opened the door. We shot apart so fast I almost fell off the bed.

"Oh! I'm sorry." Mom shrieked, quickly turning around and closing the door behind her.

I looked at Miley like a deer in headlights, and she looked at me the same way.

"She has the _worst _timing." I declared, getting off my bed. I hoped my acting skills were up to par, because it would take a whole lot of it to get out of this.

I scratched my head and opened the door, to find my mom leaning against the wall across from my door, looking so embarassed you'd think she'd just walked in on us having sex. Which, aparently is what she though she'd done.

"Sorry Jake, I thought you were still sleeping, I was just coming in to get your laundry." She tried to explain.

"Ummm...mom...that _wasn't _what it looked like...ummm...you see...Miley's...uh..." I couldn't see a way out of this without explaining the whole punch situation, which I couldn't do, on account of the whole "my mom doesn't know Miley's Hannah" thing.

"Jake...I know I can't stop you from doing things like that...It's your own business, you're almost an adult...but I really hope you're being careful."

"Huh? What?" I asked stupidly. It wasn't exactly sinking in.

"Just be sure to use protection, okay? Having a baby at this age would turn everything upside down, it would ruin your career, and I really don't want that for you right now."

"Huh? What?" I repeated, unable to believe what she was telling me.

"Jake, there's no need to be embarassed. You're getting older, I expect it. Just, be careful, okay?"

"Huh? What?" She looked at me with an expression that said "That's getting really annoying, I know you heard me." She turned and went back down the hallway, towards the kitchen.

"Ummm...okay mom...I will..." I called after her, before flipping my hair out of my face and going back into my room.

I couldn't believe my mom thought I was having sex. What does she think I am, some kind of man whore? She _expected it, _you cannot believe how embarassing that is.

At least mom wasn't aware of the fact that Miley had a boyfriend...I wish _I _wasn't aware of the fact that Miley had a boyfriend.

"What'd she say?" Miley asked, from her position on the end of my bed.

"Something about having a baby upside down in the laundry...or something like that..." I mumbled, sitting down next to her.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, oh..." I echoed.

"Oh, what?" She asked, staring at the ground.

"I don't know, I was just repeating after you."

"Why?" She asked, smiling at me.

"_Because. _Do you always have to be so difficult?" I asked her, smiling back.

"I am _not _difficult." She said, swinging a pillow at me.

"Sure you aren't..."

She rested her head on my shoulder and let out a huge sigh.

"This whole "good people" thing isn't going to work out, is it?" She asked me, resting her hand on my leg.

"Nope...definitely not..."

"Definitely not." She echoed, before glancing at me quickly, with a smile on her face.

"Definitely not, _what?" _I asked, smiling at her.

"I don't know, I was just repeating after you." She said, repeating what I'd said seconds before.

"Why?" I asked, using a real smart-aleky tone.

She looked at me, trying not to laugh, and said,

"_Because. _Do you always have to be so difficult?"

* * *

**_ta da!! Review, or I'll steal your ham! That makes no sense in this story, but I'm saying it anyway._**


	9. Chapter 9

**_Ugh, I'm freezing. I swear it's like, 40 degrees in my room, I am not even kidding you. My fingers are almost frozen solid, which makes it quite difficult to type...but I'll try anyways...  


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_**

The only thing I've learned in school so far this week before spring break, is that there's a pay phone outside the office, and it definitely hurts when you run into it.

This last day has _not _been going well. First of all, I completely forgot to write the book report that was due in English first hour, which is not good, because I hardly _ever _pay attention in that class, on account of the fact that Miley sits diagonal from, me, and, while she may be able to concentrate, since, you know, she can't exactly stare at the back of her head like I do, I definitely can't. My lack of concentration, therefore, has earned me a D in that class.

All second semester, with my classes changed around, I've been getting lost, and ended up following people that were in my first hour class first semester, to _their _first hour class, which is _not _the same.

So secondly, I was late to Chemistry _again, _which made the teacher pretty angry. If I'd been anybody else, I would've gotten a detention. Good thing I'm me and not somebody else...

Thirdly, - Is that even a word? It doesn't really matter, I'm using it anyways - I fell asleep during lunch, and woke up with my fingers resting in bowls of applesauce, and my sweatshirt pocket full of oranges. I don't know _who _thought that was funny, but I certainly didn't.

I guess it's my own fault, I mean, I could've gotten more sleep...but planning escape routes all throughout the school, to use in case your girlfriend's other boyfriend comes after you, takes a LOT of time. I didn't get to bed until nearly 2 in the morning last night, I just couldn't sleep.

So fourthly...I was in the locker room for gym class, dressing as quickly as I could so I could use the remaining time catching some Zzzzzzzs, and Brian started talking about Miley. I pretended I wasn't paying attention, I mean, it was none of_ my _business, right? Well, technically it was, but Brian is clueless, and doesn't yet know that.

They were talking about Prom and their...er.._plans _for afterwords...it went something like this:

Brian: I'm thinking about getting a room...I think she'll finally do it.

Some Random Dude In My Gym Class Whose Name I Don't Know: So you guys haven't done it yet?

Brian: She hasn't done it with _anyone_. She refuses. All that "I'm just not ready" crap. She's such a prude.

I'd like to point out that Brian's IQ is low enough to safely bet that he doesn't know what a prude _is. _

Random Dude: (Laughing like the stupid traitor who needs to get run over by a bus, that he is)That's not what I heard.

Brian: _What?_

Random Dude: I just heard from a couple people that...

Brian: That _what?_

Random Dude: That Mr. Zombie Slayer here, (He meant me...I think...I know of no other zombie slayers, so I'm just going to guess I was the only one in the room) uh...popped her cherry a while ago.

I'd like to point out that that is not true. I've done no popping, of cherries or any other vegetable or fruit or whatever the hell a cherry is.

Brian: No way. She hates him.

Random Dude: Maybe now...

I'd like to point out the fact that Brian moved here a couple of months after Miley and I broke up way back in the 9th grade...and that, by the sounds of his, er, _surprisedness..._He doesn't know we went out or anything. I'd also like to point out that in the short amount of time we were going out, we never got anywhere close to cherry popping...thanks to her dad, and his, umm...overprotective noseyness...we hardly ever even kissed.

Brian: What do you mean?

Random Dude: Just that they went out in like, 9th grade or something...I guess he like, "confessed his love" or something stupid like that, over live tv...

I'd like to point out that I don't know, nor want to know, why this guy I don't know knows so much about my love life.

Brian: (Looking angry and hulk-like, minus the whole, uh, green thing) Ryan!

The Idiot I Call Me: (In a tone that stupidly suggested I _wanted _him to beat the crap out of me) _What?_

Brian: Is that true?

Idiot: Uhhh...(Darts out of the gym, with the red-faced hulk close behind, and runs right into the pay phone)

So _that, _is why I'm in the nurses office, dreading the second I open the door, and quite possibly die.

"You're fine. You can _go _now." The nurse told me...again. I didn't want to argue...again, so I opened the door and looked down the hallway, both directions. I didn't see anybody, so I left the nurse's office and headed for my locker, since there was only like, two minutes until the bell rang, which was when I'd be able to duck and blend in with the crowd of short people leaving the school.

I don't even know _why _I ran, I mean, that kind of suggests guilt, doesn't it? I definitely am not guilty, I mean, as far as I know, Miley's cherry is shiny and in it's entirety. That gives me an extremely strange, sort of nasty, mental picture, but I'm pretty sure you know what I'm trying to say, so the sick pictures in my head don't really matter.

The bell rang right when I got to my locker, so I dialed my combination, grabbed my stuff, and shuffled out the front door in a crowd of close to midget-height students, without sticking out like a sore thumb.

All the same, I ran home as fast as I could, so that I wouldn't get beat up or anything, by a guy I definitely deserve to get beat up by. I really wished, at that moment, that I drove to school more often. I figured though, that while I could afford gas, other people couldn't, so if I didn't buy as much, the whole supply/demand thing would lower prices...and then I'd be elected governor, and then president, and after that, I'd be ruler of the universe! Muahahahaha!!

I'm kidding. Maybe...  
Nope. I definately am.

Once I was safely locked inside my house, my phone rang. My caller ID told me it was Miley calling. I chose to trust it, since electronic stuff only turns evil and tries to destroy the human race in the movies.

Luckily, my phone was pretty honorable, so when I answered it, the person on the other end was exactly who I'd expected it would be.

"Hey." I said, stuffing a cookie taken from a basket on the kitchen counter, in my mouth.

"Hey, how was your day?" She asked me.

"Eh, it was okay. I almost failed English, was late to Chemistry _again, _was accused of "popping your cherry", and, in an attempt to get away from your murderous boyfriend, knocked myself out by running into the pay phone outside the office...So...same old, same old. How about yours?" I listed, nonchalantly.

"Uhhh...I can't say it was as...umm_...eventful_...as yours was...I heard some pretty strange rumors today, but you know how that is..." She commented.

I finished eating my cookie, and got myself a glass of water from the fridge, before she said anything else.

"So when are you going to see your dad?"

"Ummm, the flight to Atlanta leaves at 8 tomorrow morning, so I have to be out of the house by 5:30."

"Okay...I'm gonna miss you."

"I'll be back next week." I assured her.

"I know, but I don't know what I'll...never mind."

"What were you gonna say?" I asked, as I sat down on a bar stool, without hurting myself.

"It's not important...so do you think I can sneak over there tonight to say goodbye?" She quickly changed the subject. I wondered what she was trying to hide, but didn't ask. We sort of, gave each other our space, I mean, we weren't even supposed to be in this relationship, our good people-meter wouldn't drop any more if we lied.

"Ummm, yeah...my mom's got another book club meeting tonight. She'll probably be out of here by 7..."

"Okay...I'll see you later then." She told me.

I nodded, and paused, before realizing she couldn't see me.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you in a while then.I love you."

"Yeah. I...I love you too...bye Jake." She mumbled, before hanging up.

I set the phone down and grabbed another cookie, and another, and another, until the cookie basket was empty and Miley was knocking on the door.

The next morning, at an hour that was unatural for anybody to be up at, I was in the parking lot of LAX, parking my car, which was sort of hard, because I ended up having to practically drive through this crowd of photographers that were surrounding me, without a care for the health of their feet, which I probably ran over.

I ended up having the first class section of the airplane all to myself, which was pretty nice, because it was quiet enough for me to sleep. The flight attendant woke me up before the plane started descending, to ask me if I wanted any of those nasty crackers that I hate. Well, she actually said "Mr. Ryan, would you like some crackers?" She left out the "nasty."

I got on the little subway-like thing in the airport, and grabbed a hold of one of the straps hanging from the ceiling.

"Next stop. Terminal A, as in, Alpha." This computerized voice said, as it pulled to a stop at the baggage claim. At least, I think that's what it said. It sort of sounded like it had something in its mouth. Not that it _has_ a mouth, I mean, it _is _a computer.

I hurried out, and found my dad and his...er..girlfriend...I don't exactly know if they've got married yet...waiting for me. I got my luggage and followed them out into the parking lot, without saying anything. We walked down these yellow painted sidewalk-like lines, all the way to the back of the parking garage, where they were parked.

My trip was pretty uneventful, I mean, we pretty much hung around their house the entire time. I had a room to myself, although the fact that it was mine, didn't seem to stop Janice's -my stepmom- turns out they_ are_ married - 11 year old son from another marriage, Mark, from barging in on me and staring for hours on end.

They were all kind of excited to see me, except for their daughter, Allie, who was only 2, so she didn't exactly know who I was...

I hated my step mom though. She was so nice it was mean. It's pure evil to be that nice to a person who doesn't deserve it. I hated her so much, because I liked her. Does that make sense? Probably not. My life doesn't make much sense right now, and it probably never will.

* * *

**_Okay, so I'm pretty much done with this one for a while...I've got a certain vampire-themed book waiting for me to read it...and I didn't really even feel like writing this chapter, so I probably won't feel up to writing any more for a while...I promise though, as soon as I feel like writing again, I will. So don't give up on me!!_**


	10. Chapter 10

**_As of right now, this story has been voted the best out of all uh... eleven, of my stories...so yay for the 4!, count em, 4! people that voted for it lol.  
_****_Okay, so I'm planning on spending more time on this chapter...so by now, since you're reading it...it should be better than when I originally wrote it...alright? _**

I discovered, while I was in Georgia, staying with my dad and his hideously kind new wife, that I am pretty much obsessed with Miley. I couldn't stand being away from her for that long. Sad, isn't it? She's probably getting by just fine all by herself. Well...she's not all by herself. She's probably getting interrogated by her horrible boyfriend. If I go back home and he's killed her...I am gonna be _so_ ticked. That guy is dead meat.

I tried to keep my mind off of everything going on back home, by doing whatever my dad wanted. When he wanted to take me to the aquarium to see the Piranhas, who, it turns out, don't actually eat people unless provoked, I went. I'd been there for the grand opening, but I acted excited just the same. He took me to the World of Coke, this totally boring, and really really sticky, Coca Cola Museum. I didn't feel the need to mention that I didn't like Coke, because that would only disappoint him, having been excited about the tasting room, and looking at him all depressed would only remind me of how depressed I actually am.

We went to Stone Mountain, hiking, and I twisted my ankle twice, once on the way up, and once on the way to the cable car that took us back down. Dad seemed to think it was pretty funny, while I, however, DID NOT. Dad has a pretty sick sense of humor. I think the fact that he left my mom for Janice, who is beyond irritating, proves how mentally disabled he is. Janice's smile is so great, and her hair is so smooth, she's really really really really incredibly nice, and just too perfect. It's annoying.

The night before I was set to leave, I was sitting in my bedroom, "packing," when Janice knocked on the door in that "The door's open so I can see you, but I'm knocking anyway, just in case I'm hallucinating and you're not actually there." way, before asking,

"Hey Jake...can I talk to you?" Seeing as she was already doing so, standing in the middle of my room, I nodded. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket on my bed, which annoyed me for no reason, and sat down next to me.

"I want you to know, Jake, that I'm not trying to be your mother. I know the evil ones always say that in the movies, and god knows, if nobody else, you'd know that...but I don't want you to hate me." I looked up from my abandoned empty suitcase, and she continued.

"I know what your father and I did was a bad thing, but I believe that there is somebody out there for everybody. Your father was that person for me, and I am that person for your father...I'm sure he thought your mom was the one, no doubt she's a wonderful person, who didn't deserve what she got, but they weren't...right, together. Like Larry" - her ex husband - "and I. Someday you'll find that person...and you'll find that you'll stop at nothing to get them."

I hated to say it, but what she was saying made sense. There goes the sexually transmitted mental disease I'd been hoping my dad had contracted from her.

My dad and Janice were perfect together. They were happier than my parents had ever been when they were still together. They were exactly alike, so much to the point that I wanted to puke, just looking at them.

I definitely knew what she meant with the "You'll stop at nothing to get them" part. Excluding cutting myself in half, and eating buffalo chips, I probably _would_do anything for Miley. I felt like such an over-obsessed teenager, thinking about that, but it was true. I was whipped. Like Jesus, only I don't have scars, I've yet to die for anybody's sins, nobody wrote a world-famous book that people who worshipped me read, and I mean whipped in the figurative sense, not the literal one.

I really hated my stepmother for, of many other things, making me get all mushy. I hate it when my brain got all gender-confused and starts getting emotional like a teenage girl, like that. It makes me feel weak.

"Yeah, I uh, I know what you mean." I told her, picking up a pair of socks I'd been folding and unfolding for the past hour and a half, before setting them in my suitcase. Janice smiled at me, and for a minute, I wondered if she'd heard anything about Miley. No doubt, being the horrible person she is, she would tease me for it, at the very least. The phone rang right at that moment, so she got up from my bed, and headed for the door. She turned around, with her hand on the door frame, and told me,

"I don't want you to call me mom, okay? You've got one of those, and she's the only one you'll ever have. I'd prefer you call me Janice."

"That's what I was planning." I told her, winking, as she left the room.

I looked at the clock, and decided that I had better get on with my packing, considering it was 10 o'clock at night, and I was leaving the house at 7 the next morning. It felt much later than that though. That was probably because I hadn't gotten any sleep the entire time I'd been here, due to how much I'd been thinking, every night, and I was BEYOND tired.

I quickly started shoving my clothes into the suitcase, completely randomized. A couple minutes later, while I was shoving my socks into the pocket of my bathing suit, to save room, there was another knock on my _still_ already open door. This time it was my dad.

"Hey, son, you mind if I talk to you for a minute? I just got off the phone with your mother..."

Oh great. She'd found out about the whole first of the seven deadly sins thing, and now she's told my dad. Am I ever dead.

"_Oh great.._." I muttered under my breath.

"Don't be embarrassed Jake, it's not that big a deal. Everybody does it."

Yeah, sure dad. Everybody commits adultery. _That's_ a true statement.

"Huh?" I asked, not quite sure what my darling mother had told him.

"Your mom told me that she walked in on you...with a girl? She wanted me to talk to you about it..."

"Miley's not a girl dad..." I started to say, which was really stupid, not to mention completely bogus. I know that for a fact, considering I still have that picture of her the night of the KCAs etched into my brain, like the pervert I am. "I mean, she is, she _definitely _is, just, we weren't...doing anything...it wasn't what she thought..."

Dad smiled at me, which told me he didn't buy any of it. Man, am _I_ ever the world's worst truth-teller.

"We _weren't. _We were just, uh, kissing...and stuff...on my bed...while she was wearing my clothes...aw man, that sounds so much worse than it actually is!"

"Son...I know you wouldn't have sex with a girl if she didn't mean anything to you...I just want you to know, that the person you're in love with is often the most dangerous. You don't want this girl to ruin anything for you...just...be careful, alright?"

I doubt my dad knows that for a fact, no matter how true it may be, considering he hardly knows me at all, having been missing from my life for the majority of my nearly 18 years on Earth, but I didn't point that out.

"You don't have to worry about that dad. We haven't done anything, nor will we, for a very very long time." He just winked at me, told me _again _to be careful, and left the room, _still _not believing me.

I tried to get some sleep that night, but I couldn't, so I decided to just wait until I got home to try and sleep. I stole a couple People magazines from the living room, which probably wasn't a good idea, and sat up all night reading them, which turned out to be a very bad idea, considering the face of Hannah Montana plastered a minimum of four pages in each issue.

Eventually, I brought the magazines back to the living room, where I found Janice's eleven year old son Mark, sitting on the couch.

"Uh...what are you doing? It's like, two in the morning." I asked him, whispering, as I set the magazines down on the coffee table.

"I should be asking _you _that question." He shot back.

"It doesn't matter _who _is asking the question, we're both out of bed, and it's two in the morning. I know _I _have a reason, what's yours?"

"I couldn't sleep." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay...well...good night." I said, before turning around to leave the room.

"Hey Jake." He whispered after me.

"_What?_" I asked him.

"Uh...would you ever, uh...be able to...take me to a movie premiere or something...with you?"

"Uh...why?" I asked, surprised that he'd actually want to go somewhere with me. It seemed like his only joy in life, so far, was annoying me to the point of nearly committing homicide.

"I just, think it'd be cool...I've never been to one."

"Umm...yeah, maybe...I guess." I told him, not sure I'd ever actually take him anywhere with me. He smiled at me and said goodnight, before heading off to his bedroom. I soon went to mine, where I sat, nearly bored to death, waiting for 7 o'clock to come.

Eventually it did come, as did the time my plane landed. After some of the most boring hours of flight I'd ever experienced, I was home.

The second I got in my house, my phone rang. I looked at the screen, and saw Miley's name, which told me that either, A) She's psychic, B) She's a really good guesser, or C) She's been calling me every minute for the past hour, and I just haven't been hearing it.

"Hello? Is this Sylvia Browne?" I asked, as I shut the door behind me.

"_What? _Who the _heck _is Sylvia Browne?" Miley asked, from her end of the phone.

"She's that psychic lady off Montell..." Awkward silence. "Never mind. So why are you calling?"

"Oh, I uh...umm...I kind of...While you were...Brian and...uhh...you know what? I'm coming over. Is that okay? Good. See you in five minutes." She said, not giving me a chance to answer.

"Of course you can! Thank you for giving me a moment to give you my permission." I said sarcastically, before she hung up on me. Talk about your weird phone conversation.

Exactly five minutes later - I'm leaning on the psychic thing - there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and Miley came in, barely giving me any time to move, almost running me over.

"Umm, come in?"

"I'm sorry, I just...I need to...ugh, I can't say it...you know what? Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"Thank you for explaining..." I muttered, as she ruffled my hair.

"You're welcome." She said, heading to my kitchen without so much as an invitation on my part.

"Uhh, my mom's home, so we kind of have to be...uhh, secretive, I guess..." I said, as she opened the fridge and took out the gallon of Sunny D lemonade.

"Yeah, that's fine." She said, helping herself to a glass of my lemonade.

"Speak of the devil." I muttered, as my mom came into the kitchen.

"Oh, hello...I didn't know you were home, Jake." She said, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard, and pouring herself some of the lemonade Miley had taken out.

"Hi, I'm Lorraine, Jake's mother." She said, holding her hand out. Miley took it, shook it - ha that rhymes - and said,

"Nice to meet you, I'm Miley Stewart. J-" She caught herself before saying what I'm guessing was "Jake's girlfriend."

Mom smiled at her and took a drink, before looking at me and mouthing what I _think _was "Is this the girl you were having sex with the other day" Which I most DEFINITELY was _not._

I mouthed "Kinda" because that's what she thought, although it wasn't true. She nodded and swallowed her latest sip of lemonade, before turning to Miley. I realized what she was about to do, so I started waving my arms, trying to stop another class of sex education from happening.

"No, mom, please." I finally said, when she failed to notice my flailing arms protesting what she was about to start saying.

"Honey, you don't even know what I was gonna say." Mom said, setting her glass down.

"Yes I do." I wanted to say back, but didn't.

"Can I talk to you two for minute?" She asked us. Miley looked at me, shrugged,and, oblivious to my warnings, said,

"Sure. Why not?"

I let out a huge sigh as mom launched into her "I don't want you to have a baby upside down in the laundry" speech.

"I want you both to know that I am perfectly okay with what you do in your spare time...I really wish you would wait, but seeing as teenagers only want to do exactly what their parents tell them not to, I'm not gonna push that."

"Mom, seriously, there's no need, we were only-" I tried to stop her, but she's like a train going 100 miles per hour. There's no way in hell you're gonna stop her, so you might as well lay down in the tracks and hope it's over quickly.

"Jake. Even if you haven't done anything yet, you still need to hear this." I looked at Miley, and noticed her smiling at me. She thought this was funny. My mom was picking me to pieces, telling me how she thinks I sleep around, and _she _thinks it's funny. Isn't she _great_?

"I just want you to be careful, alright?" Mom finished, having gone on and on with her speech, which, after the not pushing the saving yourself for marriage rule, only got more and more disgusting. She started telling stories I did_ not _want to hear. I could tell, at the end of mom's tangent, that Miley didn't want to hear them either. Her mouth was now hanging open, her last smile gone long ago, while she looked down at her stomach and mouthed the word "ow."

I did my best to keep these images out of my mind, but that only convinced my mom that I wasn't listening, which I wasn't, and that I was going to have sex no matter what she said, which, I wasn't. You can't convince her of that, though. My mother surely thinks highly of me. However, maybe if she'd formed that opinion a long time ago, I wouldn't be in this current predicament.

**_Alrighty, so I'm off to hide from the possibly evil three armed purple alien porn star planning on being Hilter's successor, who is currently hiding on my box of crackers...so if I don't come back...I got attacked by her army of barbies..._**

**_If that's the case...I leave everything I have on the Internet to whoever wants it!! Also, if I do die...I'd like the aforementioned alien porn star to know that I don't actually think she's a alien porn star...so there will be no need to mutilate my body once I've been murdered..._**

**_Okay...So I'm gonna go sleep off all the sugar I must've had without knowing it..._**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Okay, so I think it's necessary, after reading my last author's note...to assure you all that I am not insane. Although my newest fic might suggest that I know stuff about being a serial killer...which you sorta half to be insane to be... But anyway, t****hat alien thing was sort of an inside joke, you probably wouldn't understand it...I'd say feel free to ask...but I can't exactly remember what it was about...

* * *

**_

The last few weeks of school started flying by, what with my mind being completely preoccupied with thoughts of you-know-who, and those sick fantasies _about _you-know-who that play in every straight guy's head. Well, not every guy thinks about her in particular...at least I hope not...

Not that I would blame them.

What I mean _is, _nearly every guy's mind is in the gutter, okay? Including me. I know, shocking, right?

I won't go into detail about the things going through my own mind. You're welcome.

So like the little monster it is, Prom snuck up on me pretty fast. I, of course, had nobody to go with, considering the only girl I'd even _think _about going to Prom with was going with another guy. Another gigantic, smelly, evil, cheating, dishonest, guy. Man I hate him. I hate him with a fiery passion. Not that I actually want the word "passion" to have anything to do with him...but it best describes how much I hate him, so I'm using the stinkin' word, okay?

The millions of girls asking me started getting suspicious as to why I kept saying no to everybody. Nah, I'm kidding, there's a not a million girls at our school. It was more like, hundreds of girls. Not that there isn't at least one million of them out there willing to go to prom with me.

So anyway...the girls were getting sorta suspicious, so I decided I need to come up with an excuse as to why I wasn't going.

My toes got chewed off by a panda so I can't dance? Nah, too unrealistic.

I'm allergic to light? Definitely not believable, I'm an actor, we live in the light. Plus, I'm sure they'd find a way about that.

My grandfather's dying so I have to go visit him that weekend? Good enough.

I started spreading the news that, "I'm sorry, I'd love to go to Prom with you, but my grandpa's sick, and I have to go visit him that weekend." Lucky for me, none of them knew that my grandpa died the year I was born. Girls are so gullible.

So the week of Prom was especially difficult for me, considering the girl I love has no heart, and _actually_ _asked me_ what I thought of her Prom dress. I told her she should go in a buffalo costume, and then she was mad at me for the rest of the day, complaining that I thought she couldn't hold her man whore of a boyfriend off by herself.

It's not her I'm worried about, it's him. He's an experienced liar, and he's really really really huge. I wear, the guy has got to be related to a giant, or an ogre...whatever is bigger. My point is, he's ugly and huge and mean, and could probably break her in half like a twig. A really skinny twig. An extremely hot twig too, if you catch my drift. Not that I think twigs are hot, cause I don't...I'm not weird like that. Twigs come from trees, and trees are not humans. I'm definitely into humans, _female _humans, NOT trees.

So that was definitely an analogy, by the way. Miley's not a twig. She didn't fall from a tree. Her dad _is_ pretty big and strong though...but he's not a tree, okay, I've seen him move, and he doesn't go bald in the fall.

So now that we cleared that up...

The day before Prom, I spent an entire six hours on the phone with Miley. My mom was pretty mad...She told me that if I weren't a millionaire, I'd be paying for the entire phone bill. Which, actually didn't make any sense, considering it's my money, and she uses it to pay the bills anyway...so technically I am paying for it...HEY!

Anyway,we only hung up because my phone went dead, otherwise it would probably have been seven hours, and I just might have gone bankrupt. Ha.

It seemed to me like I was the only one talking though, considering she only said anything like, twice. She seemed pretty preoccupied. It might've just been that she was tired though, it WAS one O'clock in the morning...and I did kind of refuse to let her hang up...I definitely talk too much...

It seems to me that lately, though, I've been the only one talking. Oh my god, maybe she's deaf!! That would explain why she hardly ever replies to anything I say...but it would _definitely _not explain why she gets so mad every time I insult her boyfriend under my breath...But then again, maybe she's just a really good guesser. I can just about hear the voices in her head right now.

"Hey, Jake's lips are moving...he must be insulting Brian, I better yell at him at a higher volume than necessary, since I'm deaf and can't hear how loud I'm being."

So maybe it wouldn't be like that exactly...

What it _was_, though, is boring. Not the voices in her head, life in general. I'm pretty sure the voices in her head wouldn't be boring, considering I'm not so sure they exist...

But my life was a giant puddle of boring that weekend. They day of Prom, I tried to read, but that didn't work...the only books in my house are romance novels anyway, which sort of sicken me...especially when I think about how my mother has actually seen those words. Let's say they're not PG-rated books...

I tried watching tv, but that didn't work either. I'm pretty sure that in the summer, the people at the tv stations think, "Hmmm, it's summer. People are at home, with nothing to do. Let's play all sorts of boring tv shows that nobody wants to watch, and then play the good stuff when they're all dead asleep! Somebody's getting a promotion!"

So I was stuck between reading my mother's only child friendly book, a cheesy Lurlene McDaniel romance novel, and watching The Price I Right. Drew Carey kinda scares me...I liked Bob Barker better...he was a lot thinner too, and actually fit on the screen.

I decided to turn off the tv, and put the book down. I would've burned it, but seeing as it was my mom's...I'd probably be decapitated with a gardening trowel...

I went into the "library" and turned on the computer. First, I read a story about a blind bowler that rolled a 300. Then, I watched a video of a guy getting attacked by a panda at the zoo. I went to Youtube and watched a couple beyond creepy videos that people made about me. They sort of scared me...I'm not even sure how they _got_ some of that footage. I don't remember some of it at all.

I moved on from the videos about me, to the videos about other people. I found this Jamaican guy/girl (I couldn't tell which) singing an Ashlee Simpson song...which was weird...then I found one about this fat guy that dressed up as Nick Jonas and tried to get girls' phone numbers, which was a little weirder, since some of them actually thought he was Nick. I do have to admit, though, that afro wig was just about right...

Then, the creepiest of them all...I found a video that seemed harmless at first, when they were singing...but then you watch it...and oh look! There's a guy making out with a cardboard cutout of Hannah Montana!! That one just about made me puke...I hit the back button as quickly as possible, and went on to some video about Sanjaya with a love song playing in the background...

After that disturbing moment in my life that will probably never be forgotten...I decided to listen to some music. I started with The Beatles, which got kind boring after a while, since I know Paul McCartney, and he's old. So then I moved on to The Backstreet Boys, which got kinda annoying, since they're all like, gay or drug addicts or whatever...I'm not really sure which, but you know how 90s boy bands are. Next I watched a music video, and some guys that looked like child molesters kept telling me to "Shake it." After that, I was traumatized by Jesse McCartney's giant face eating black eyebrows. I always thought he was blonde...

Music got pretty boring, so I served food to penguins in a diner in Antartica, cut an arrow out of a guy's leg, and pretended to be George W Bush while serving hot dogs to civilians at Yankee Stadium, all on Yahoo.

While that did take up a couple of hours of my time, it didn't take up enough. Why on earth does the only day I don't have some sort of event I could go have to be the day of Prom? I can't even go to Target dressed as Ken, and join Barbie in signing autographs, _that's _how much god hates me.

Speaking of God...some guys who also, obviously, had nothing to do, showed up at my door, trying to get me to buy some book about Muslims...I politely turned them down, and told them I didn't have the money right now. And they actually believed me. I'm pretty sure they lived under a rock, and crawled out once a year to sell random people books. Poor guys.

After that, I turned on the tv again, and started flipping through channels. I watched this tiny cop get beat up by this ginormous guy she was trying to handcuff. It was sorta sad, considering her was using one hand to eat a ham sandwich, and he still held her off...

I eventually settled on E!, and learned that Kristen Bell likes pickles, Brad Pitt wears white underwear, and there's three more cheerleading movies coming out this year. it got kinda boring, but I didn't feel like changing the channel, so I just sort of closed my eyes, and listened to the ecstatic voice of Debbie Matenopolous. When I woke up, Debbie was gone, and some blonde chick was dissing the"Wannabe Beatles" Jonas Brothers and their "Caterpillar eyebrows" Eventually, she shut up, and braced for the assassination she'd probably be facing outside the studio. I went to get some popcorn, an when I got back, Ryan Seacrest was taking up the screen, talking about American Idol, and how much he's in love with Simon...He didn't _actually _say that...But I'm sure it's what he was thinking. Eventually, the Italian chick that looked pretty annoyed with him started talking about Gwen Stefani, and how much her step-daughter hates her...or something like that...

I ate my popcorn, while thinking about Prom, and how much fun I'd have had at it if going didn't mean getting murdered by my date's boyfriend. Speaking of my date... Giuliana Rancic, the Italian lady, put on her serious voice, and started talking about Hannah Montana, who, if you're retarded, or just haven't guessed by now, is my "girlfriend" in a wig.

They showed some pictures of her arms, with these definitely photoshopped bruises covering them...Then, they accused _me_of doing it! They must be as bored as I am, down at the studio, since they're making up ridiculous stories to fill their half hour.

Anyway, I can assure you, I've seen her arms...well, I've seen a lot more than her arms...and there are no bruises on her arms, or any other part of her body. Well, she has this one on her foot, but she got that from an attempt at kicking me, so it wasn't really my fault.

They made some comment about her excessive coffee drinking and moved on to Paris Hilton's ugly hat, or something like that...

I flipped the channel and watched a movie about Spanish explorers fighting off Dinosaurs. It was a long movie, so by the time it was over, thank god, it was dark, which meant that it was acceptable for me to go to bed. Which is what I did.

In the morning, I told my mom, who had just got back from a visit with her sister, that I was going out. Before she could ask me where I was going, and then forbid me to go there, I left, and started driving around. I saw some interesting people, and got chased down the street by a crowd of crazy girls, before I lost them and ended up in a gas station parking lot. My car was going on empty, so I filled it up, before putting on my genius sunglasses and a hat disguise, and going inside to pay for it. I gave the cashier the money, and waited to get my change back. He kept messing up, and counted out my change about a thousand times, so when I finally got it all back, the line was pretty held up.

On my way out, I recognized the last person in line. It was Miley. Her hair was messed up, she was wearing a pair of guy shorts and a t shirt that I knew wasn't hers, and was holding a toothbrush, waiting to pay for it. She saw me and looked completely horrified. Before I could say anything to her, she put the toothbrush back and rushed out of the gas station, before climbing into Brian's car, and disappearing down the road.

* * *

**_I hope I didn't offend anybody with the Muslem thing...It actually happened to me a couple minutes before I wrote that part, and I had nothing else to give him to do..._**

**_Is "snuck" a word? Cause the spell check thinger definitely doesn't recognize it...but i've used that word all my life..._**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Okay, so I'm gonna keep me big mouth...fingers,(although my fingers aren't big...they're actually really thin, compared to other girls my age...)...shut...so that I don't offend people, because I'm in an offending mood...and I'm pretty good at doing just that..._**

**_I'd like to say that the last chapter had a point in being pointless. It was sorta supposed to show just how boring his life was without her and stuff..._**

* * *

"Hey, if you're not gonna buy something, get out, you're raising the temperature, the ice cream's gonna melt." The cashier yelled, motioning to the small freezer next to the counter, where they kept ice cream bars.

"Okay, whatever." I mumbled, before I attempted to exit the gas station. By attempted, I mean, ran into the wall, and pushed on the door, when the sign clearly stated "PULL." I was having bad day.

When I finally got to my car, without killing anybody, I yanked the door open and sank into the drivers seat with an extremely loud THUD, for a guy as un-fat as I am.

I couldn't believe it. What was _that _about?

It wasn't her. It was her...clone. Her clone, who knows me...Well, duh she knows me, I'm Jake Ryan. What I mean _is_, It was her clone, no doubt. I'm just glad to see her clone even thinks about brushing her teeth. That's definitely a good thing, I mean, there's nothing like a clone with bad breath.

Okay, so maybe it _was _her. She's got to have a good reason for going to a gas station...with her boyfriend...wearing his clothes...with sex hair. Oh god.

What exactly do you call this sort of thing? I mean, she's not exactly cheating when it's with her boyfriend...is she? Ugh, I knew this would blow up in my face.

I decided to forget about it, so that I could drive home without killing myself or others. It was a very distracting sort of thing, this situation. I almost didn't see the red light, and just about ran over a hobo pushing an empty stroller. I was relieved when I got to a red light and could quit worrying about running over people, but then I realized I had to watch it, or else the people behind me would get really really mad when I stayed put at a green light, and then they might just behead me.

I was caught up in watching the man in the car next to me pick his nose, so I missed the light anyway. Somebody honked their horn at me, which finally got my attention, and the very embarrassed nose picker's.

I ended up at home, without injuring my car, the occupant of it, or any of the worlds population. Well, if bacteria counts...

I sat it my room for a while, thinking about what I'd seen at the gas station. I could only think of a couple of alternate explanations.

**1. **She got attacked by a wild boar, and some random guy on the side of the road, whom she had never met before then, and had no desire to ever see again, gave her some of his un-ripped clothes.

**2. **Brian kidnapped her and took her to Antarctica, which made her mad. She kicked him in the head, which increased the size of his brain, since it obviously couldn't decrease it. He then realized she was cold, and offered her some of his clothes.

**3. **Her shower and laundry machine were attacked by rabid Jonas Brothers fans, so she couldn't use either of them.

None of my ideas sounded very credible, which made me depressed. Like you wouldn't be depressed if you found out the girl you're helping to cheat on her boyfriend cheated on you with her boyfriend! That's like...un-cheating. Man I'm messed up. No wonder she chose him. Even Brainless Brian is more intelligent than I am. But I bet he doesn't know what Intelligent means!! I DO!! Ha ha, Na na na na na na! I obviously don't know what mature means, though.

So back to my depression.

I wasn't sure what to do, I mean, by being depressed an all, over losing her, I was doing the right thing, because adultery is a sin, and depression isn't. So I can be as depressed as I want, and God won't send me a rejection letter.

I sat in my room for several hours, wondering if it'd be unmanly if I cried in my room, in privacy. Probably. Just for the record, I wanted to cry, but I DIDN'T.

I decided that completely ignoring it was the best idea. I knew how much she hated it when I acted like nothing was wrong, when, in fact, something was wrong. She would get so mad when I wasn't mad at her. I kind of wanted to laugh, thinking about it. I also wanted to call her up and be like, "What are you wearing? Brian?" She'd be so pissed though, she would kill me. I can't carry out my plan of doing absolutely nothing if I'm dead, now can I?

Step One, AKA The One and Only Step, in my plan worked for about an hour the next day at school.

All through first and second hours, while the teachers went on and on about finals and how important they are, and how if you get an A in a class, or are a world famous actor, like me, you can get out of that final. I acted like I was brain dead.

She acted a little nervous through first hour, but when she realized I wasn't mad(or so she thought), she started talking more. Unfortunately, by the end of second hour, she realized she'd been doing all the talking, again, but I hadn't tried to interrupt even once. That made her sort of mad, and she started asking my questions, and saying things like:

"Jake, did you hear me?"

"Are you even listening?"

"Did somebody drop you on your head this morning?"

"Oh my god, you're deaf!"

I just kept shrugging and nodding my head, trying to prove to her that I still had a brain in there, even if I didn't appear to be using it.

She was so pissed at me by the end of the day. I hadn't said a word to her, which, believe me, is extremely hard. I can't stay quiet around her, she follows me everywhere.

She found me at my locker at the end of the day, and grabbed a hold of my arm. I was scared, because, you know, I knew I couldn't get away, her being a world famous arm wrestler and all.

I gently pulled my arm out of her grasp, which seemed to insult her. I think the mere fact that she was too weak to hold on to my arm insulted her more than me pulling it away, but you know what I mean.

"Jake, please, talk to me. Ask me a question, insult me, yell at me, anything. I know you saw me at the gas station, don't you have _something _to say about it?"

Uh, what were you doing? What'd you sleep with him for? Why are you such a whore?

"What were you getting a toothbrush for?"

"To brush my teeth, duh, now seriously Jake." It sounded more like "TobrushmyteethDUH, Now seriously Jake." I feel its necessary to say that, so that you understand just how little time she took to answer my question.

"Seriously, _what_? What am I supposed to say?" I asked her, looking right into her eyes for the first time that day. She looked really timid, right there, looking at me like that. She reminded me of the mouse I'd found on my dresser Christmas morning when I was five. It peed on there though, so I hope she doesn't do that.

"I don't know...just..._something_." She begged me.

"You know, there's really nothing I can do about it if you want to stay with him. That's what you should be doing anyway. It'd just be nice for you to tell me what you wanted to do, before you did it."

"Well...I didn't really know I was going to..." She trailed off, so I started to walk away, and she followed me. "You know when you were in Georgia...and when you came back I sort of..."

"Wouldn't finish a sentence?"

"Yeah...well, while you were gone...Brian came over to my house, while Dad and Jackson were attempting to work out at the gym...and he sort of...he told me he'd been cheating on me..."

"You already knew that." I told her. She already knew that too, but hey, seeing as we're in the "Let's say things we already know" mood, I might as well join in.

"I know that. But he was honest with me for the first time in a long time. He told me everything, and apologized over and over and over, and he was getting really annoying and just wouldn't shut up, so...I forgave him."

"You did what? How terrible. You sure missed out on all the hot hate sex you could've got if you hadn't _forgave him_. Silly girl." I commented sarcastically. She glared at me, and it actually hurt. Seriously, I need eye drops, I think my eyes are bleeding.

"I feel like I owe him something. I did something bad to him." She told me, acting completely serious, while I just wanted to laugh at how bogus this seemed.

We kept heading in the direction of my house. I'm not really sure why she was following me, seeing as I'm pretty sure she knows she's not welcome there at the moment.

"He did something bad to you too. All he owes _you_ is something the equivalent of your virginity. Not a _second chance_."

She stopped walking, and turned to look at me.

"What?"

"You heard me." Miley was silent for a while, but kept following me anyway.

"I liked you better when you weren't talking." She told me, before finally turning around and walking away.

I felt relieved that I'd finally said something to her, but sad at the same time. I didn't want to lose her, but if she could be honest with a scumbag like Brian, and not with me, maybe it wasn't supposed to work out.

Not that something like that could work out, exactly...In the end, she'd have to chose me or him. She tried to say that the only thing keeping her from me was the Hannah secret, but this obviously proved that that wasn't the only thing keeping her with Brian.

I didn't really know what to do now. It seemed like the reason for my existence was gone. I had nothing to do anymore. Well, I did have about a million public appearances to make, and four commercials to shoot. Oh, and an interview with both OK! and US Weekly magazines, you can't forget them. I needed to go refrigerator shopping with my mother too...

I went home, told my mom to cancel all my appearances for the next week, and called my dad. I told him I was coming to see him for a couple weeks, and hung up before he could tell me he was too busy. I packed a bag as quickly as I could, and was on a plane before you could say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Well, you might have to say it a couple dozen times, there was a lot of traffic.

I ended up on a plane to Atlanta again, but this time, I was stuck in the first class cabin, with a diplomat, his wife, and their nosy kids in the row in front of me. The kids leaned over the back of their chairs the entire flight, staring at me, and their parents did nothing. I didn't really feel like asking them to quit staring, so I just closed my eyes and slept through the whole thing.

When the flight attendant woke me up, the plane had landed, and the diplomat and his family had left. I grabbed my carry-on and snuck through the crowd of ordinary people in the airport, until I found my step mother waiting for me, with my bags right beside her. how she knew they were mine, I don't know. That's just another annoying thing about her.

The entire drive to their house, almost thirty minutes, she was pretty silent. She asked me how school had gone, and she asked me if I had signed on to any new movies. I told her it had gonna as good as the end of your senior year can, and that we were negotiating another movie right now.

When we got to the house, she offered to take my stuff inside, but I declined. I told her I'd take it in later, and sat on the porch, by myself. I watched people walk by, and the stared at me, but nobody said anything. At least, nobody except for one person. This one girl came out of the house next door, and saw me sitting there by myself.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked me. I looked up and stared at her for a second. She looked like she was a year or two younger than me, a Junior maybe. She also looked like Halle Berry. I'm not kidding, if she was about twenty five years older and ten pounds lighter, she could be Halle's twin. She was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Mi-never mind.

"Umm, yeah...I'm just...thinking." I called back, looking down at the cement under my feet.

"Thinking about what?" I looked up, and she was standing right there. She sat down on the steps next to me, unaware of the possibility that I could be a serial rapist or something dangerous like that. She sat there, waiting for me to answer, looking to me like the nosiest person I'd ever had the misfortune to meet.

* * *

**_Wow, it took me so long to write this...like, two days! It usually takes about four hours, tops...with distractions...If I think about this stuff for too long, It doesn't turn out right..._**

**_I hope this turned out alright. It has a point, I swear._**

**_Review!!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**_Woot! Summer!_**

**_Okay, so now that I have all the time in the world to write...I don't really want to...but I'm going to attempt it anyway, alright? I really wanna lower the number of unfinished fics before I start anything else.

* * *

_**

"Hi. I'm Michelle." She told me, sitting there like she actually expected me to tell her all about my life. Well I had news for her. I wasn't. No way José...er, Michelle.

I didn't tell her my name. No doubt she knew it. Unless she's been living in a cave her entire life, that is. But who knows, maybe she has.

"Hey...you're Jake Ryan, aren't you?" She asked me, like it wasn't obvious who I was. I mean, practically everybody knows me. I could wear a stinkin' paper bag over my head and people would _still _recognize me. I might as well be wearing a shirt that says "Hi! I'm Jake Ryan. Come harass me with your stupid questions about zombies, none of which I would know the answer to, since I'm not a real zombie slayer and don't know crap about zombies." It would take a pretty big shirt to put all of that on there, but hypothetically, I _am_ wearing it. People always come up to me, asking "Oh my god, Jake Ryan!! Can Zombies eat corn on the cob?" How the _hell _would I know if zombies can eat corn on the cob? I mean _seriously_!

Michelle didn't ask me anything about corn or zombies. She didn't even want to know anything about my being an actor, like most people did. She just asked me what was wrong.

"Why should I tell you? I've got an expensive therapist back home who asks me that same question, and she went to school for it." I was being a jerk. So what, I was depressed. Which might just explain why I told my entire story to a girl I'd just met.

"And so now she's with him again, and I'm here." I finished.

"You know what?" Michelle asked, putting on the all-knowing "I think I'm a therapist" expression that nearly all girls used.

"What?" I asked, resting my elbows on my knees, and my chin in my hands.

"You're sort of a jerk." She told me.

"Thanks a lot. _That _sure makes me feel better. Who are you anyway?"

"I'm your neighbor."

"Exactly. If you said "I'm your therapist," or "I'm an evil dictator who took over the United States five minutes ago," what you think would actually mean something to me." I told her, turning my head ever so slightly, to see her expression.

"Whatever. But she is sorta right you know. You don't really have any right to be mad at her, I mean, she's making a stupid decision, but he _did _have her first."

"That's the thing! He never "had" her. She's not his property, and she never was, but he thinks she belongs to him! He's an ass."

Michelle was silent for a minute, trying to look like she knew me, and, therefore, could tell what I was thinking.

"Is that why you hate him?"

"No. I had him because he's a stupid piece of garbage." I explained, sighing.

"Wow. How mature, Jake." She's calling me by my first name! She can't do that, she barely even knows me! "I'm gonna go home...I suggest you forget all about this..."stupid piece of garbage." and do the same."

Seriously, who does this girl think she is, Dr. Phil? I barely know her, and she's bossing me around already. What is _with _girls nowadays?

I didn't go home, but I did go inside. I pulled my suitcase up the stairs, and left it on the floor of my closet. Then, I left _me _on the floor of my closet. It was big, okay? We could both fit. Not that we're a "we." We're actually an "it" and an "I."

I laid in there for a while, staring at the ceiling, thinking about this song I heard on the XM radio on the way here. It went something like:

"Take your records, take your freedom  
Take your memories I don't need 'em  
Take your space and take your reasons  
But you'll think of me  
And take your cat and leave my sweater  
'Cause we have nothing left to weather  
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better  
But you'll think of me, you'll think of me"

It kind of worked in this situation. Besides the fact that _nobody _has records anymore, Miley doesn't even _have _a cat, and I never gave her my sweater, it kind of fit how I was feeling at the moment.

She probably _would _think of me. Because she thinks about stuff, cause she's just that smart. I, of course, am an idiot, which means I probably won't be doing much thinking. Not that I ever do.

I _was _thinking about her though. I was thinking about how she was probably in her room, with Brian wrapped around her, giving her Stupid Disgusting Worm Disease.

So technically, the song didn't work at all. I mean, I don't really feel all that much better. I'm not really sure what "'Cause we have nothing left to weather" means, but I don't think that fits either.

I'm bored.

I need something to do, before I strangle myself with the lone hanger hanging over top of my face in this stupid closet.

Lucky me, the only people I know in this stinkin' town are my family, and Michelle. I am in desperate need of more friends. Maybe I _am _a jerk. Oh no. People don't like me!

To get my mind off of that...I asked my step mom if I could borrow her car. She was reluctant at first, but told me I could. I told her I'd be gone for the day, and went back outside.

Michelle was sitting on her front porch, reading a book. She looked up when I unlocked Janice's car, and watched me open the door.

"Is there anything fun to do around here?" I asked her, resting my hand on the top of the door.

"Yeah, sure there is. Why?"

"Because I'm going out, and so are you."

Michelle made me take her to the mall, which sort of sucked...but they had this amazing little amusement park thing for little kids in there. It was brand new, and there were kids running around everywhere. We didn't exactly blend in, but the people in charge of the rides let Michelle and I ride some of the rides. I nearly fell off the carousel, and got sort of sick on the little roller coaster, but it was fun.

Eventually, we found the food court, and I had some of the greatest pretzels I'd ever eaten in my life.

After she forced me to go inside Abercrombie and Fitch with her, I insisted on leaving. It smells so bad in that place. It's like a ton of gay guys, sweating fruitiness, got stuck in an elevator together for a week. You kinda have to wonder how they keep it smelling like that all day. They must have people whose job consists of running around the store when there's nobody in it, spraying cologne on everything.

We stopped by an arcade after lunch, and she beat me at air hockey like five times, until I finally beat her and let her move on to something else.

Hardly anybody in Atlanta recognized me, the entire day. I had to sign a napkin for a guy at a Dip-N-Dots stand, but that was almost it. The people here weren't walking around _looking _for celebrities, like they did back in Malibu. It was kind of nice, actually.

By the end of the day, though, I was exhausted, from my flight and my day with Michelle. I went back to being depressed on the way back home. I saw a guy eating popcorn out of a black and white bowl, and I nearly cried. I had a bowl like that, and Miley ate popcorn out of it.

I was pathetic. I actually had to rub my eyes when I stopped at a red light and saw a billboard that said "Jackson Hewitt Tax Services" Michelle thought I was having a heart attack or something, and freaked out on me.

"What? What's wrong? Why aren't you driving?"

Her brother's name was Jackson...and that simple fact was upsetting me, as I looked at the billboard.

"The light's green, for the love of god, go!!" Michelle yelled at me. I hit the gas and sped through the light, which freaked her out even more, causing her to yell at me...again.

I turned onto Ponce de Leon and was finding my way back to my temporary house, with help from my backseat driver, when my phone rang. I glanced down at the screen, and slammed on the brakes when I saw who was calling.

"WHO TOUGHT YOU HOW TO DRIVE, A TODDLER?" Michelle screamed at me, as she nearly left her seat.

I looked down at the phone, and back up at Michelle.

"What?" She asked me, not quite seeing what I was looking at.

"It's her!" I whispered, anxiously.

"So answer it!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"...It's probably her boyfriend...tracking me through my cell phone, so he can figure out where I am and kill me!" I rambled, suddenly scared of Miley's boyfriend more than I had been when he had a reason to want to kill me.

"You're pathetic. If you won't answer it, I will." Michelle told me, rolling her eyes. She left

"No!" I yelled, but it was too late.

"Hello?" Michelle asked, holding my phone up to her ear.

"Umm...yeah, he's here...but he doesn't really want to answer the phone right now..."

"Don't say that!" I yelled at her, reaching for the phone.

"No. That wasn't him. That was...my pet rabbit."

"They do _too _talk!" She argued.

"How about I have him call you back, bye!" She said, before hanging up.

"I can see why you like her." Michelle told me, sarcastically.

"You probably seemed like an idiot to her." I suggested.

"Wow, thanks." She replied.

Eventually, we got home safely. Well, we both had seat belt burns, and I'm pretty sure Michelle's heart rate was about double what it was supposed to be, but besides that, we were in one piece.

After that, she was sort of reluctant to ride in a car with me, but the fun we had together made up for it. Michelle was fast becoming my best friend. We kept going back to the arcade, until I could beat her at air hockey every single time we played it. (That took a VERY long time, FYI. Air hockey's the one thing I'm really bad at.)

Miley didn't call back after Michelle had answered the phone, so I took it to mean that whatever she'd had to say then, wasn't that important. That or Brian killed her when he found out she tried to call me...but that couldn't have happened, Hannah was on Regis and Kelly this morning, and _not _in corpse form.

I kind of wanted her to call me, but then again, I was afraid of what would happen if I did. I'd probably turn back into my old self and be all egotistical and selfish, and she'd hate me. I could see that side of me coming back though. I felt like she was mine, when she wasn't, like she had to be with me, when she didn't.

I'd holed myself up in my room, watching TV by myself for days, ignoring Mark's perpetual questions about when I was going to take him to a premiere. I didn't see dad that much, he hadn't expected me to come, like he had last time, so he couldn't get time off work. It didn't really bother me though, all I wanted was to be away from Malibu, away from all the people that reminded me of Miley.

I couldn't, however, get away from Hannah. Whether I was at Walmart, the headquarters of the "Insane Hannah Montana Fans Club," freaking out every time I turned a corner and saw a giant cardboard statue of her, or at the arcade, staring weirdly at the little girls wearing her shirts, like they were going to murder me, she was there. She was EVERYWHERE. Including my tv.

I fell asleep watching tv, and when I woke up, some story about her last concert was on the tv. She was wearing a plain, for her, t-shirt, with a picture of Rocky on it, and some dark skinny jeans. Her hair wasn't styled at all, and most of it was in her face It was weird, seeing Hannah dressed so...casually, which is why I didn't change the channel right away.

They zoomed in on her, and she sat down on a small stool in the middle of the stage, with her guitar in her hands. The reporter on the tv quit talking, and Hannah started to.

"A friend of mine gave me permission to use this song tonight...I hope the person it's meant for is watching..." She sounded extremely unlike herself. She was nervous, and on stage. Those didn't go together. She was _never _nervous on stage. She started singing, and I recognized the song.

Taylor Swift. I swear, that girl will not stop until I've killed myself!

I listened to it anyway, because I had a feeling who the song was meant for.

"I didn't know what I would find, when I went looking for a reason, I know, I didn't read between the lines, and baby, I've got nowhere to go. I tried to take the road less traveled by, but nothing seems to work the first few times, Am I right?

So how can I ever try to be better, If nobody ever lets me in? I can still see you, this ain't the best view,  
on the outside looking in. I've been a lot of lonely places. I've never been on the outside."

I sighed loudly. It _would _be hard to get over me. Ha. I _am _on the tv a lot though. But lucky for her, My face isn't plastered on _everything, _like hers is_._

I wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. I mean, she obviously wasn't singing this song for Brian. Who would sing a song for _that _scumbag? So if she _was _singing that song for me...what did it mean? That she wasn't with Brian anymore? Why would she call me to tell me that, if that were the case?

I flipped the channel and shut off the tv, deciding to forget about it until I got home. Easier said than done; I didn't get _any _sleep that night.

Over the next few days, every time my step mother was stupid and let me drive her car, I nearly wrecked it, slamming on the brakes whenever my phone rang, or driving off the road, staring at billboards.

There was this one billboard off one of the main highways that had Miley on it. Well...it had Hannah on it. It was advertising her new CD, and had the album cover on it. I could never seem to stop staring at it.

I'd been at the photoshoot, and it'd been an uncomfortable one. The guy in charge of the cover seemed to think she was much older than she was. She was barely 18 at the time, and he'd wanted her to do it topless. It was taken from behind, but she still knew how it would look to people, and the whole thing made her uncomfortable anyway. The guy was fired, and the woman that was second in command took over, letting Hannah have a lot more control over it.

It was an amazing picture, I'd had a lot of fun at that photo shoot, watching them manipulate her body so that it turned out exactly perfect, each wrinkle of skin, every shadow had to be perfect. It was amazing, watching them do it. My photo shoots were never like this.

In the picture, she was wearing a dark pair of jeans, and a gold string bikini top. They'd spent what seemed like an hour adjusting the strings so that they hung correctly, and weren't covered by the two long braids, ending with dark red ribbons, going down her back. The background was a black room, black walls, black carpet, black curtains. They had a bright, silver, microphone stand being supported horizontally, behind her back, by her elbows. The name of the album ran across the mike stand in the same color red as the ribbons in her hair.

It probably seems pretty strange that I know the picture by heart like this, but considering it's the only thing, besides trees, that I can see from my bedroom window, it's not _that _weird.

Michelle liked it. She didn't know that Miley was Hannah, (I wasn't _that _stupid) and she wasn't Hannah's number one fan, but she did tell me she liked the picture, before asking what "Hannah" was like.

"I uh...don't know her...that well." I'd mumbled, staring at the huge billboard from the front steps, where I could also see it from.

"Oh come on, she's been on your show, you hosted those one awards together, they always pair you up at the Teenies to hand out _something, _whether it's an award or those little cups of water the presenters get once their off stage, _like it's really that hard to read a name out loud._"

"She's okay, I guess." Michelle smiled at me and teased,

"You think she's hot, don't you?"

More than you'd think.

I stared at the sidewalk, and didn't answer her.

"You really love her, don't you?" Michelle asked me, serious again. I knew she wasn't talking about Hannah this time. Well, she was, actually, but she didn't know that.

I nodded and said,

"Yeah." Michelle was silent for a while, before she stood up and exclaimed,

"Then go get her!"

* * *

**_Sorry for the rushy-ness...I kinda want to finish this next chapter, and I didn't really have anything to say about Michelle...she's just supposed to be his friend, you know. I don't know, if I do a sequel, she may be more important..._**


	14. Chapter 14

**_Okay, so I know it's weird to get two updates from me in two days...but I am SO finishing this. It will be so finished, it's not even funny. _**

**_Sequel...I'm not sure if I'll do it...I was thinking of doing the exact same story, except from Miley's POV...so tell me what you think of that..._**

**_Okay...so Wendy? I'm using the cowbell, alright? lol

* * *

_**

I found myself on a plane headed to LAX within two hours. I was seated in coach, hidden between two fat guys that could've passed for sumo wrestlers. They smelled like candy, too. I almost wanted to hit them with a baseball bat and see if some of it fell out. It'd be best not to do that on a plane though, considering the security is pretty tight, and "I thought he was a piñata." wouldn't hold up in court.

If she took me back, and told me she'd dumped Brian, I would glady do this over and over and over. If she didn't take me back...I'd be sending her to Australia between two official sumo wrestlers.

If she took me back...she'd be having my babies for the rest of her life. (Not that that is possible) I felt like I'd marry her right on the spot. I think she's got a neighbor that works at a church...he might just be the janitor...but he'll work.

If she didn't take me back...I'd sky dive off the Eiffel Tower without a parachute. I hear you'd die halfway down. Maybe I should throw Brian off the Eiffel tower...

To stop myself from taking it too seriously (She could've been singing that song about Brian...nah.) I dug through about fifty pounds of old fat guy flab and found the radio in the armrest. I plugged the headphones the stewardess had given me, in, and tried to find a good station. Eventually, I gave up, my hands too tired from holding up the guy next to me's arm.

I adjusted my sunglasses and leaned back, listening to the radio. It wasn't a very good station, but I didn't want to delve into uncharted territory again, so I left it.

Some song about whales, or something of the sort, was on, which nearly put me to sleep. Next, some girl was singing about cheeseburgers...but I think that may have been a commercial, it was kind of short. Next, a lady with an annoying voice, like she was talking to two year olds, came on, with what she called "news." She talked about some website that teaches you how to make bracelets for half of the segment, and moved on to "actual celebrity news." In other words, "complete and utter lies."

"Word on the street is that the Jonas Brothers are going to split up. Aww! That's terrible! What will we do without the Jonas brothers." I was thinking the same thing, only I was actually kidding...She was serious.

The wouldn't split up, they're brothers. It'd be pretty awkward to meet your brother in the green room and be like, "Hey, my single's number two this week. How are you doing?" "Oh, mine's number one. And I'm going to Africa next week to sing to little children that don't even speak English." Yeah.

If they_ did_split up...Joe could probably keep going, he is the lead singer, isn't he? I don't pay much attention. Nick could always dress up as a fat old woman and sing in the opera. Kevin...hmmm. Kevin could play the cowbells. I can see it now, people paying ninety dollars a ticket to see Kevin Jonas tapping his foot while playing "Old MacDonald" on the cowbell. He might even have an actual cow there. He could lure it on stage with his fuzzy sideburns.

I wouldn't want to be in a band with my brothers. If I had any brothers, that is. Spending all that time on a tour bus...somebody would probably get their head shoved through a drum, and it wouldn't be me.

The plane ride seemed to be even longer than usual, what with the donut fumes coming from Mr. Fatty next door.

By the time the pilot finally announced that we were descending, I wanted a donut really really bad. It took nearly twenty minutes to actually land, but it seemed much, _much _longer. Once I got off the plane, the first thing I did was find somewhere I could buy donuts.

I left the airport with my suitcase, and a donut in my mouth. The suitcase wasn't in my mouth, just the donuts. Thought I'd clear that up...

I found my car in the parking lot, and paid the fine for leaving it there nearly two weeks. It was a pretty big fine.

I wanted to speed home, but seeing as how giving celebrities speeding tickets is a cops favorite hobby out here...I went the speed limit. Maybe a mile or two over...

I slammed on the brakes in my driveway, tossed my suitcase in the house, literally, and left for Miley's house. I may have sped there...

I knocked on the door, and Mr. Stewart opened it, looking pretty grumpy. I didn't really want to bother him, but I asked if Miley was there anyway.

"No...she left the house this morning. If you find her, tell her to call home, alright boy?" He asked me, looking less scary than I'd ever seen him. He seemed genuinely worried about her, as was I.

"Okay...sir." I mumbled, before climbing back in my car. I wasn't really sure where to look for her, so I called Lilly, who told me that neither she, nor Oliver, who was with her, had seen Miley all day. That made my search so much easier. Sigh.

I went by her favorite sub shop, but Dan, the owner, hadn't seen her either. I stopped by the mall, but didn't see her car in the parking lot. I wasn't about to search through the entire place in search of one girl, so I skipped that. I went by a pizza place we went to a lot, the park, the beach, the grade school playground, where she liked to use the swings. She wasn't anywhere. I parked my car one last time by the beach, and, avoiding Rico, whose goal in life was to get me trampled by crazy fans every single time he saw me, and started down the beach, to find the one last place I could think of.

It took a while, but after I got attacked by about twenty thousand trees, I found the place, and I found _her. _She was swimming around in the small pool of water, sheltered by the trees, unaware that I was even standing there. I'm thinking it's safe to say she was naked. yeh, she was skinny dipping. You jealous?

"Miley?" I whispered. I'm not sure why I whispered, I mean, it's not like anybody else was out here. I could've screamed if I'd wanted to...but that'd probably give her a heart attack, and then she'd drown, and I'd go to prison for manslaughter.

She turned around quickly, to face me. I'd obviously scared her, whispering or not. She swam to the edge, and rested her arms on the ground.

"Jake?"

"No. It's Cody Linley." I joked.

"I don't know who that is...but what are you doing here...fake Jake?" Haha, that rhymes. Fake Jake.

"Uhhh...I saw you on the news the other day...the concert and all..." I wasn't really sure what I should say.

"Oh. So you heard the song?" She pressed herself up against the edge more, which, I'd think would feel pretty weird, considering she was nude, and all...but whatever.

"Yeah..." I mumbled. Why couldn't I say anything? I was getting dumber and dumber as the seconds ticked by.

"I...uhh...You were right, about Brian." She finally admitted. I smiled knowingly at that, feeling pretty dumb, just standing in the middle of the clearing. "He promised me he wouldn't cheat again...but he did. Twice."

I didn't feel the need to rub how right I'd been in her face, she looked sorta sad.

"He's an experienced liar, I would've been real surprised if you hadn't believed him."

We were quiet for a minute, except for the birds in the trees, trying to get a peek at her rear end. The water was dark though, neither they, nor I, could see anything.

"Come here." She broke the silence, motioning for me to come closer. So I did. I'm a guy, and there's a naked girl that wants to come closer, what do you think I'm gonna do?

I kneeled down next to the water, and she reached out for me. She grabbed my hand, and started rubbing it, supporting herself with her elbows.

"I'm sorry." She told me, not looking up at my face.

"For what?" I asked her. "I'm the one that should be sorry."

"You have no reason to be sorry, I'm the one that was an idiot."

"You got that right." Wait, did I say that out loud? Oh no...

"I...uhh..." I mumbled, while she glared at me.

"My point is...I dumped Brian. And I don't care if he tells my secret anymore, as long as I can..."

"Be with me?" I asked, smiling. We were so corny.

"Yeah." She told me, smiling.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one." I told her, playfully.

"You're a jerk." She told me, rolling her eyes.

"I know." I replied, before she yanked on my arm, and pulled me into the water, head first.

A couple of weeks later, the two of us sat at my kitchen table, the newspaper and a basket of fruit in front of us. I was eating a banana, and Miley was on the phone. The banana was a little too ripe for my tastes, but I ate it anyway. I'm a guy. We eat whatever is put in front of us, alright? Well, as long as it's food.

"You think we could bring two extras to the premiere? Jake has a couple promises to make good on." Miley was talking to my manager for me. My mouth was full of food, and he didn't like me anyway, so I was better off letting her do the talking.

I had to bring both Michelle and Mark to a premiere, since I'd promised. I'd gladly have let Mark forget about it, but seeing as he lived next door to Michelle, if I brought her, he'd know it. I figured the premiere of my latest movie would be the best one to bring them to. It was supposed to be a big hit, since we'd finished filming it nearly a year earlier, and it'd taken _months _for them to put in all the special effects.

"No, he's not trying to sneak a terrorist into the premiere, are you crazy?" Miley asked my manager, loudly, as she popped a grape into her mouth. "He doesn't even know any midgets. And they prefer to be called "little people." It's a lot nicer." She looked up at me, smiling, and plucked another grape from the basket.

I picked up the newspaper and was about to flip to the comics, when I recognized the person on the front page.

"Uhh...Miley..." I mumbled, not sure what to say.

"It's two people, and they'll be killing nobody! He's bringing them, alright!" She yelled into phone, before rudely hanging up.

"You're out of grapes." She told me, standing up.

"Come look at this." I whispered, afraid of what she was going to do when she saw it. She made her way behind me, and, leaning over me, she looked at the article on the front page, and groaned.

"That son of a bitch." She whispered, staring at the words "The Real Hannah Montana" plastered across the top of the page. Underneath were two pictures. One, an official picture of Hannah, the other, a picture of Miley, taken, no doubt, with Brian's camera. She was wearing her pajamas, a white Coca-Cola tank top and some red shorts, and had her hair down. Her tongue was out, and she was crossing her eyes. It wasn't a new picture, she'd had it stuck to the mirror in her bedroom, surrounded by pictures of her, Lilly, and Oliver, for a while, until she broke up with Brian and took it down.

"He _had _to use the picture where I look like a loser." She mumbled, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Do you want me to read the article?" I asked her, cautiously.

"No. I know pretty much what it'll say anyway." She sat in my lap, pushing the newspaper away, and started going through the fruit basket again. She reached deep into it, and started digging around.

"So you're not mad?" I asked her, confused. I know _I'd_ be mad if somebody did this to me.

"No. It was about time to give up on Hannah anyway. And with you...my life can never be normal." She smiled at me, and pulled out the last grape.

"Hey. I found one." She exclaimed, before sticking it in her mouth, and leaning against me.

"And I found _you."_

* * *

**_Woot! Another one finished! I'm on a ROLL. I need to quit saying "woot" it sounds weird..._**

**_Yay! Another one finished! I'm on a ROLL._**

**_Much better._**


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